


Unmatched

by jl_micasea



Series: Unrequited [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Adult Themes, All Rights Reserved, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Cheating, Confrontations, Do Not Translate, Do not repost, Estrangement, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Insanity, Kidnapping, Love Triangles, Marriage, Obsessive Behavior, Ownership, Promiscuity, Reconciliation, Reconciliation Sex, SKz Smut, Scheming, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Sequel, Sex Toys, Stalking, Stray Kids Smut, Swearing, Temptation, Unrequited Love, Violence, Yandere, chan is still a diva, dark themes, marriage problems, minho still can't help himself, stray kids x reader, the club is thriving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jl_micasea/pseuds/jl_micasea
Summary: Set several months after the events of Unrequited, you are now married and settled with the man you thought you’d never have. Yet when old secrets and bad habits resurface, things are not as entirely harmonious as they seem.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Reader, Lee Minho | Lee Know/Reader
Series: Unrequited [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122302
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from my old Tumblr account.  
> Sequel to Unrequited, highly recommend going and reading that first if you haven't already. This story is a direct continuation. Again, I have much love for this series and intend to do spin-offs in the future using the universe. Feedback is hugely appreciated via AO3 or through my Tumblr directly. Please consider leaving kudos or a comment on this if you enjoyed it, they're all responded to and are what keeps me motivated. ~Mica  
> ~ [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/)  
> ~ [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)

##### Pulling up to a gradual stop on the street and switching off the ignition of your car, you took a brief moment to examine yourself in the rear view mirror before you hopped out, praying that you looked as presentable as you hoped you did.

By all accounts, you were the same old person. Your lips pursed in the same way they’d always done. Your hair was the same colour and tone it’d always been. And your general outlook on life remained naively optimistic, irrespective of the bad days that would crop up now and then.

Tucking several loose strands of hair behind your ears through the rectangular mirror, you caught a sparkling glimpse of the one thing that reminded you, that despite all the sameness you might have felt, your life was now vastly different in the most wonderful of ways.

The small, silver band that adorned your wedding finger. Set with a single, tiny diamond that reflected the dusky late afternoon sunlight beaming through your car windows.

You held your hand out in front of you, admiring it for the hundredth time that day.

If someone had told you six months ago that you’d be married and relatively settled down, you’d never have believed them. But here you were.

More than half a year into a marriage you could never have predicted, with a man you could never have been forced to live without. And miraculously, it hadn’t gone wrong yet. 

In fact, it had been nothing but smooth sailing since you’d uttered those vows in the registry office and taken the dive with him. It had been a humble, private ceremony, with only close friends in attendance. Neither of you had any close family to speak of, nor were you particularly fond of gestures of grandeur, so the ceremony you’d ended up with, had been perfectly tasteful and modest. A memory you would cherish forever, and one you’d drawn on every day since then.

Releasing a contented sigh at the warm recollection, you grabbed your handbag from the passenger seat, hopping out of the car and slamming the door behind you, starting the short walk to work.

Ah. And there was the other thing that had changed. Or, more specifically, _where_ you worked had changed.

Your heels clacked against the smooth stone cobbles of the alley, the unlit neon sign above the large metal door in front of you catching your eye. You knew it so well by now.

Seventh Heaven.

The story of how you’d ended up working here was an utterly comical one, and once again, if someone had told you six months ago that you’d end up working at the one place you essentially blamed for the very near breakdown of your relationship with Minho, you wouldn’t have believed them. Not for all the tea in China.

But life has a unique way of throwing you into situations you’re nowhere near prepared for. At the time, all you could do was take it in your stride. And so you did.

Chan had begged. Pleaded. Appealed to every God under every religion to get Minho to stay when he’d told him he was leaving it all behind. And to be fair, Minho had stood his ground. You watched the whole thing play out from the sidelines of his office, initially with amusement. But the turmoil on Chan’s face and the sheer panic in his voice stirred something in you, and eventually, a compromise was met, albeit begrudgingly.

Minho would stay at Seventh Heaven. As a manager, mentor, supervisor, whatever he needed to be, as long as it didn’t involve his old work. His evenings with the ‘angels’ were well and truly done, and that was something neither of you were prepared to negotiate on. His role would involve more pastoral duties for the other boys when they needed it, with his wealth of knowledge being almost as much of an asset to the club as his ability to make the clients weak. And that, in turn, freed Chan up to take a more _active_ role in the club, which was something he’d always wanted. So for the most part, Chan was happy just doing as he pleased.

At the time, the prospect of Minho remaining at Seventh Heaven wasn’t one you trusted entirely. And to this day, you couldn’t be sure what that lack of trust was born from. Minho, or the club, or Chan, or your own sense of insecurity. But either way, in an effort to retain some measure of control over what your future husband did at work, you proposed the unthinkable.

“Make me a manager too!” You’d blurted out, followed by a string of justifications and reasons why Chan should hire you.

Minho quickly caught on, backing you up and reinforcing every single excuse you gave to convince him.

And much to your surprise, it had worked wonderfully.

Admittedly, it had taken a while to adjust to the change. It wasn’t one that came easily, moreso because you’d been on the receiving end of the services you were now running. Detaching yourself from the mystique of the club and putting on a professional head was a gradual process. But with Butler’s help, and the help of all the other guys, you’d somehow managed to settle in.

Taking bookings, organising the nights, sorting out the schedules, stocking the club and the play rooms, in addition to the occasional fire fighting and everything else that got thrown on you made sure you were kept more than busy. And after half a year of doing it, you’d found yourself silently loving it.

Every night, you relished in the raw excitement the job gave you. Making people happy, through the smallest of things and the deluxe package the club provided, gave you the sense of satisfaction that you were once told by a certain someone you could never understand unless you did it yourself. And while you weren’t involved in the intimate nights of the play rooms, you didn’t need to be.

Because working alongside your husband, in this insane place, was more than enough.

* * *

##### “Y/N!”

The shrill, high-pitched whine of Jisung’s voice from down the hall caught your attention, and you felt that usual surge of irritation at the interruption, chucking the itinerary you’d been reading over to your laden, paper strewn desk. You knew you needed to sort it out, but you maintained that there was an organised chaos to it. Somewhere.

“Y/N! Can you come over here?”

Clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, a subtle habit you’d picked up from Butler that indicated how much you _loved_ dealing with these boys sometimes, you huffed under your breath as you stood from your seat, making your way out of your office.

“What is it?” You called, maintaining your politest tone.

You turned the corner, seeing Jisung and Changbin stood toe to toe. Not unusual, but no less frustrating.

“What’s going on?”

Jisung shot you that look of appeal, the one he used when he absolutely had to get his own way, because it near enough worked every time.

“Changbin won’t let me use the spreader bar tonight. It’s _my_ turn!” He whined.

You rubbed at your temples as you prepared yourself to play mediator for this admittedly trivial argument, eventually getting close enough to see each of them holding one end of a silver steel spreader bar like their lives depended on it.

“Just use something else! Why do you have to use this?!” Changbin huffed, pulling his end towards him.

“Because mine’s broken, and you’re the one that broke it!” Jisung replied, tugging back on the bar.

“Wait- your equipment’s broken?” You asked, placing a calming hand on Jisung’s shoulder.

He nodded in response, flashing Changbin a glare.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We’ll get you another one ordered.” You stated, making a mental note to get a replacement. “Changbin, let Jisung use this tonight. Please? You broke his, after all.”

Changbin scowled, reluctantly letting go of the bar, much to Jisung’s blatant pleasure.

You were about to ask how the hell he managed to break a metal bar, but quickly stopped yourself. You knew enough about went on in those rooms from personal experience. You didn’t need the grisly details.

“Is your play room stocked enough? Do you need anything?” You asked him, trying to restore some sense of harmony by enticing him with the idea of new toys.

Changbin pursed his lips in thought, clearly thinking harder than he would have needed to if he’d _actually_ needed something. But you weren’t about to call him out on that.

“Hm. Maybe more lube? The strawberry one?” He asked, cocking his head at you.

“Sure thing,” you nodded, patting his shoulder. “Now go get ready. We’ll be opening soon. Play nice!”

You turned away from them, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you searched for the number of the supplier you used for the equipment. You knew there’d be spare lubricant in the storeroom, and failing to find the supplier’s number in your phone, you decided to head there first.

Tentatively climbing down the metal grated stairs to the basement, you held on to the railing for dear life as you did so. They were a deathtrap waiting to happen, with the little holes in the grates taking hold of your heels as you moved. Yet another thing to talk to Chan about before someone got hurt, so you added it to your mental list.

Approaching the bottom of the stairs, you pushed against the heavy wooden door, wincing as the freezing air of the basement connected with your skin.

The basement was primarily used as a storeroom, with it being naturally cold enough that it could house the various liquors, spirits and beer barrels without doing too much damage. You’d suggested moving the play room equipment down here in an effort to enforce some kind of stock control. The consistent disappearance of vibrators, dildos, shackles, whips, paddles, ropes, floggers and everything else was endlessly frustrating, and creating a significant dent in the club finances, yet you knew that was thanks to the boys dipping their hands in whenever their fancies cropped up. Not that you could complain too much. They were nothing if not dedicated to their work.

Stepping into the storeroom, you scanned the shelves lined with numerous types of boxed, pristine sex toys, looking for the strawberry lubricant Changbin 'needed’.

“Mrs. Lee?”

The sudden sultry calling of your name made you jump, and you turned to see the most exquisite of men leaning against the door frame.

A knowing smile spread across your lips as your leather clad husband approached you, that trademark slink in his step. You knew he’d left home for work before you, but it was still always a nice surprise seeing him here.

“What are you looking for?” He purred, his strong arms encircling your waist tenderly.

“Changbin needed something…” You replied, allowing him to guide you backwards, small subtle steps until your back connected with the cold brick wall.

The helpless grin on his face coupled with the way he was looming over you made you tingle. Even now, after all this time, he still had a way of reducing you to the giddy college girl you were when you met him. His steely grey tresses swept over his feline eyes, his beautifully plump lips barely inches from yours.

“What if I told you I needed something?” He whispered, pressing his body against yours as his hands on either side of the wall formed a snug cage of warmth and safety around you.

“And what would that be…?”

“I need-” He murmured, nuzzling his lips against the skin of your neck.

“My wife-” A soft nip of your earlobe between his teeth, “Spread legged and naked-” Followed by a gentle flick of his tongue, “Calling my name as she takes my cock.”

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling his face back to yours as desire burnt fiercely inside you at his words.

“That can be arranged, Mr. Lee…” You breathed, closing the distance between you with a desperate kiss.

Minho growled against your lips, his hands all over your body as gentle gasps of anticipation escaped you at his ferocity. There was no hesitation, no shadow of doubt that either of you couldn’t give the other what they wanted as he popped open the button on your jeans.

You threw your head back to the wall, eyes closed in abandon as Minho slid down to his knees in front of you. The chilled air of the basement connected with your skin as he dragged your jeans down your legs, following the removal of the fabric with rough kisses.

Freeing one of your feet from the jeans, he hitched your leg up to a small shelf that lined the storeroom. Lacing your fingers into his tresses, you moaned far too loudly as his wet lips connected with your clothed heat, a single moist touch that simply set you alight.

“What do you want me to do angel?” He purred, dragging his tongue over the supple skin of your exposed inner thigh.

“Just fucking taste me-” You whined, desperate lust overriding any shred of dignity you could have fronted with him.

“Now, now.” He smiled, tentatively sliding your soaked panties aside. “Haven’t I taught you to ask nicely?”

You looked down at him, clenching around nothing as he met your gaze. You watched as he deliberately outstretched his tongue and slowly, barely, flicked it over the hood of your clit. A strained whimper escaped you as the sensation was nowhere near enough to satisfy your wants. And he knew it.

You’d have to beg.

“Please baby…” You whined, appealing to him as best you could. “Please taste me-”

Minho smirked wryly, repeating the wicked action only marginally firmer than the last time.

“H- Harder… please-”

His hands slid up your bare thighs, taking firmer hold as he graced a kiss against your clit.

“I don’t think you want it bad enough… Do you?” He whispered.

“I do… I do want it- I want it _so_ badly, I want you more than anything… please, please, please-”

Minho hummed at your little display, licking his lips in anticipation.

Wordlessly granting your wishes, he finally connected his plump lips with your core, forming a snug, warm cocoon around your throbbing clit. You mewled at his touch, tugging at the roots of his hair as he suckled softly. A firm drag of his tongue through your folds sparked pure fire in every one of your nerves, and you began to quiver at the sensations he was subjecting you to.

“So fucking sweet-” He murmured, before rippling his tongue across your clit once more.

Gentle laps and rapid kitten licks stimulated every angle of your trembling bud, driving you to the brink of your release. Every ragged breath you drew in and lustful expletive only spurred him on, his hands kneading your thighs as he rode you into ecstasy.

The familiar knot in your core threatened to explode as Minho gently eased his middle finger only a few inches into your walls, curving it in that expert manner he adopted that allowed him to brush against your most responsive spot.

“M- Minho… oh my _god_ -”

The simultaneous sensations sweeping through you forced you into a harder orgasm than you’d anticipated, and the strength in your legs all but evaporated as he fingered you slowly through the high.

“Such a good girl for me…” He hummed, standing to his feet and sliding his fingers upwards through your dripping, quivering pussy as he did so. His palm remained against your area, his lips connecting with your own as he made you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Turn around angel.”

The simple command against your lips made you clench involuntarily, the implication of his words sending waves of expectancy through you. You knew what was coming next.

You turned and pressed your front to the wall that was now warming with your body heat, your breathing laboured as Minho kicked your legs apart, angling your hips just enough to give him the access he craved.

The subtle sound of a zipper coming undone did nothing to ease your heightened senses, and the feeling that followed next was nothing short of heavenly torture.

Holding the base of his rigid length in one hand, the other on the small of your back, he pushed his shaft through the gap of your thighs, coating himself in the fluids of your earlier orgasm. You bit on your lip as his swollen head caressed your still tender clit, groaning through gritted teeth.

“I won’t make you beg again-” He breathed, lining himself up with your entrance. “Just make sure you let me hear those sweet fucking moans-”

He’d always had a thing for the way you sounded during sex. Something about the way you were so helpless to submit to his advances, calling his name with that lustful lilt just seemed to drive him insane. He’d always told you there was no sound more intoxicating to him.

And in keeping with his request, you released a breathy, low moan of satisfaction as he sunk every inch of his rock hard cock into your hot, velvety walls.

“ _Fuck, angel_ -”

Gentle slaps on skin on skin began to resound through the storeroom as Minho started to move, his hands holding you by the curve of your hips. You whined helplessly, your forehead resting against the wall as your body was forced forwards by his motions.

Every delicious thrust hit you at your deepest parts, earning a soft grunt or a sharp hiss from him as your natural lubrication gave him the utmost of pleasure. His hand slid up your back, his fingers curling into the material of your shirt, giving him something to grip to as he picked up his pace. His perfectly solid member drove into you, fucking you like he was simply built to fit you.

And he was. Your adoring, utterly irresistible husband never failed to give you the most intense of orgasms, and the rawest kind of sex you’d ever had. He reduced you to your most vulnerable, before building you up through his praise and love, to the point where you’d never felt so strong and wanted.

He was your angel, and you his.

* * *

##### Three days later made it Saturday night.

The busiest night for the club, and the most stressful night for you.

In your months of doing the job, you had yet to have a night that had gone wrong. So far, everything had always gone off without a hitch, despite the chaos that went on behind the scenes and the stress you inevitably suffered for it.

Chan had always maintained that as long as the clients were happy at the end of the night, it could be considered a success. And a satisfied Chan, meant a happy, harmonious club, no matter how utterly exhausted you were at the end of it all.

Yet, for some reason you failed to identify, you couldn’t shake the pit that had formed in your stomach tonight. For no apparent rhyme or reason, you were feeling things that you hadn’t felt in a long time. A lingering feeling of anxiety, coupled with waves of nausea that threatened to send you into fits of tears. It was endlessly frustrating, if only because it was making it harder for you to focus when you needed to most.

Doing your best to bury the unwanted feelings, you ran your hand through your hair as you looked over the schedule for the night, tapping absently at the paper with your pen.

Changbin, Jisung, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Felix were all fully booked for the night. Not unusual for a Saturday. Chan had also offered himself as tribute for the evening, meaning he was also booked to bursting. It wasn’t very often that he’d get involved, but with you and Minho taking over much of the managerial duties, he found himself with almost nothing to do other than enjoy the services that his club offered. And why shouldn’t he?

Scanning down the list, you checked the code words over one more time.

  * **Changbin** : Temptress x3 _(M, F, F)_
  * **Jisung** : Sunshine x2 _(M, F)_
  * **Seungmin** : Sweetheart x1 _(M)_
  * **Jeongin** : Honey x2 _(F, F)_
  * **Felix** : Princess x1 _(F)_
  * **Chan** : Baby Girl x3 _(F, F, F)_
  * **Hyunjin** : Kitten x
  * **Minho** : Angel x



“For fucks sake-”

Cursing under your breath in frustration, you hurriedly scratched out the last two names on the list, making a mental note to change the fucking schedule. Infuriating annoyance coursed through your bones, pissed off at yourself for forgetting to do it once again.

Because every time you read those names, memories of a time rather forgotten would flood back to you.

It had been near enough five months since Hyunjin had disappeared. After everything that had happened between the three of you, he’d tried to keep things amicable. For a while, he’d put on his best facade and buried his emotions for the sake of the job and your friendship, until, in the end, it had proved to be too much.

You’d tried to convince him to stay when he’d told you he was leaving, promising him that your more consistent presence wouldn’t make things awkward. That you could work together and be friends, despite all the tension in the air when him and Minho were in the same room.

But that had been a blatant lie. You knew that. And it was utterly selfish of you to expect him to stick around.

Yet despite yourself, you still wanted him to. You owed your current relationship in large part, to him. He had been the one that had pushed you to confess your feelings, telling you that you were hopelessly stupid to even try and deny how you felt.

It had been a purely selfless act on his part, and to this day, you weren’t sure you could ever do what he did. Sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of someone else’s? You knew you weren’t that big of a person.

You’d tried to thank him for that. More than once. But every time he’d never wanted to hear it, making some excuse or changing the subject until eventually, you’d blurted out your unwanted thank you with nowhere near the grace you’d wanted it to have.

“Please don’t thank me.” He’d replied, his eyes sad as he looked at you with listless disappointment. “I have nothing but regret for what I did that night. I hate myself for letting you go, Y/N.”

It was at that moment, in hearing those words, that you knew you’d been expecting too much from him.

So, you let him leave. Hoping that he’d heal, hoping that he’d find someone that was deserving of the love he had to offer. Because you never would be.

* * *

##### “Are we all set?”

You approached Butler from behind the bar, a hushed tone to your voice so as to avoid distracting the enraptured clients.

“Yes, Madam. Everything appears to be in order.” He replied politely as he set a freshly filled wine glass on the tray in front of him.

“Great. And how is everything out here?”

Butler smiled, nodding in that way he always did to let you know that there was no need for you to stress out or worry. He had it under control. Just like he always did.

You returned his smile, exhaling slowly as a minor rush of relief swept through you.

But it was ultimately short lived.

“Uh, Y/N?”

You turned around to see one of the long serving staff members stood meekly behind you, shifting on her feet.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Uh… well, there’s… there’s something-”

She was fumbling over her words, wringing her hands nervously as she clearly dreaded your reaction. And that did nothing to ease your worries.

“Jesus, Sarah, spit it out. What’s wrong?”

“There’s something going on in the staff room. I think you should go see-”

You shot past her before she could really finish, marching as quickly as you could to the back room without breaking into a flat out run.

Even from down the hall, you could hear the shouts and exclamations of a ruckus from the staff room, and your heart began to pick up in speed the closer you got.

Entering the room, you were greeted by the sight of the five boys dressed in their show attire, various forms of BDSM gear that the clients just lapped up.

And right in the middle of them, a flushed, pain stricken Felix clutching his leg as he rocked back and forth on the floor.

“What the hell is going on?” You asked, rushing to Felix’s side.

“It- it was an accident! We were practicing the new routine… and, Felix, he-” Jeongin stammered.

“Lix? Hey, look at me.” You interrupted, not honestly caring how this had happened. You knew the boys well enough to be certain that it had probably been a genuinely innocent accident.

Felix met your gaze with bleary eyes, his hands still gripping at his calf and ankle as he attempted to soothe the pain he was in by groaning it out.

“How badly does it hurt?”

“So fucking bad, I think it’s sprained- ah _fuck_!” He whined, wincing as you tried to remove his hands.

“Sorry! Sorry, just, let me see?”

He tentatively let go of his leg, resting backwards on his hands as you eyed up the injury. You were certainly no medical professional, but the almost instantaneous swelling that had formed around his ankle was enough to tell you that he was in no condition to perform tonight. And quite possibly, anytime soon.

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath, looking around the room.

“Jisung, can you get Minho for me please?”

Jisung nodded, jogging out of the room to fetch your husband.

“So, you’re not dancing tonight. You’re not doing anything. I’ll call you a cab to the hospital, you need to get this looked at.” You explained softly, soothing his hair where it had fallen out of place.

“No! No way, I’ve never flaked out on a shift, I can-”

“Lix, don’t even.” You cut off his desperate appeals, shaking your head at him. “This isn’t flaking out. These things happen, and besides, can you even stand right now?”

Resigning himself to your instruction, he pouted at you in defeat.

“Everything okay in here?”

Your husband’s voice from the doorway immediately made you feel better, and you quickly stood from Felix’s side to go to him, running your hands through your hair as you went.

“Not really. Felix has hurt himself, he can’t dance tonight.” You sighed, the frustration clear in your voice.

Minho pursed his lips, his eyes locked to the wailing boy.

“Well, that’s a problem.” He replied.

At that moment, Chan appeared from the hallway, absorbing the scene with an utterly dumbfounded look on his face. You grimaced intuitively, knowing what was coming next.

“What in the fuck happened?!” He yelled, shoving past the two of you to get into the room.

“Chan, it’s nothing to-”

You were promptly cut off by Chan’s hand being raised to your face, earning a disapproving glare from your husband in his direction.

“I asked what happened, is anyone going to answer me?” He repeated, eyes flying between all the boys who were now stood with their heads hanging low.

“We… were just practicing the new routine, and Lix fell… I mean, he tripped over me, but I didn’t mean to trip him.” Jeongin stammered.

Chan huffed through his nose, nostrils flaring as he stalked towards the boy.

“You tripped him? Do you have any idea what this means for the club?!” He shouted, using far more force in his tone than was necessary.

“Hey, he’s already said it was a fucking accident. How about you lay off?” Changbin snarled, flexing the leather cutoff he was wearing as he moved to Jeongin’s side.

“Lay off?! This is going to fucking cost us-”

“Okay!” You shouted, hands in the air as you realised this was the point where you intervened. “Enough. This was an innocent accident, Chan. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll just cancel the Princesses for tonight, refund them, whatever. I’ll handle it.”

“Y/N…” Chan growled, staring you down with a fierce look in his eyes.

“How are we supposed to go into that club and tell the clients that are _already here_ that they won’t get what they paid for tonight? I’ve only ever had to do that once, thanks to someone-” He shot a sharp glare in Minho’s direction, “And it damn near ruined our reputation.”

You felt a small surge of guilt at the memory he’d dragged up, knowing that you were the reason Minho had bailed on him that night.

“Cancelling these clients is not a fucking option.” He stated, turning away from you.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” You asked in exasperation, throwing your arms to your sides. “There’s no one else that can cover, we don’t have the staff, Chan!”

Chan suddenly stopped in his tracks, a wicked smirk crossing his lips.

“Well…” He purred, glancing lazily over at Minho. “There _is_ someone.”

The implication of his words didn’t quite set in until you locked eyes with Minho from across the room. Shaking your head in defiance, your heart began to pick up irregular speed as sheer panic set in.

“No. No fucking way. I won’t allow it.”

Chan whipped his head around to you, almost carnal determination in his eyes.

“Did you forget who owns this club?!” He snapped, his tone harsh. “Who pays your fucking wages? If you can’t think of another solution to this problem, then I will. Minho fills in for Felix. End of. I _dare_ you to argue with me on this.”

With that, he stalked out of the room, leaving incurable tremors in your bones as you began to shake involuntarily.

Yet more than that, the thing that really sent the waves of hysteria rolling through you, the sight that forced the pit you’d been harbouring in your stomach all night to expand with helpless anxiety, wasn’t Chan’s suggestion.

It was the expression on your husband’s face.

The way his eyes seemed to glisten at the simple prospect of reclaiming the stage. The way he visibly swallowed, the implication that his mouth had run dry at the idea. The way his chest rose and fell with laboured, incremental breaths. The anticipation of stepping into the shoes he’d absconded for you six months ago was painfully clear on every inch of his achingly beautiful face.

Your gut feeling had been right. You’d known this happiness could only last so long.

And it was impossibly frightening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
> ~ Support via [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)


	2. Chapter 2

##### The staff room had fallen deathly silent with Chan’s announcement.

Every person in near proximity felt the crushing tension he’d created.

A prickling cold had seeped into your bones. The subtle quaking of your shoulders and erratic thumping of your heart being totally involuntary reactions, physical manifestations of the panic wrought through what had just been proposed.

Minho, unsurprisingly, was the first to collect himself, swallowing as he took a small step towards you, opening his mouth to say something.

But you knew what he was going to say before the words even left him. A listless string of excuses or justifications, a voice of reason that you didn’t want right now. You just couldn’t hear it.

“I… I’m gonna call you that cab, Lix, okay? J- Just sit tight for a while.”

Your tone was shaky at best, your polite demeanour very obviously forced as you attempted to take back control of the situation that Chan had dumped on you.

Giving your best smile to the boys in an effort to maintain the facade, you promptly left the room, shoving past Minho on your way out.

It took less than a second for your pretence to crumble.

You brought your hand to your chest, trying desperately to control your laboured breaths as you headed to your office, moving entirely on autopilot. You needed your own space and time. Space to break down in relative safety, and time to rationalise what was happening.

Flinging open the door, you allowed the tears to fall as you held your back against it, using yourself as a human lock against the intrusion you were sure was coming.

“Baby?”

A gentle knocking on the door made your heart wrench, coupled with the sound of your husband’s calm voice.

“Can I come in?”

You shook your head as if he were there to see it, swiping the tears away from your cheeks.

Your lack of a reply _should_ have indicated that you didn’t want him to come in, but Minho seemed to have other ideas. The instant you moved, it was pushed open as he stepped inside.

“Y/N, let’s just talk about this.” He said softly, closing the door behind him.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Minho. I don’t approve.” You replied, settling into your chair. Propping your elbows on your desk, you ran your hands through your hair, holding your head in them as an alternative to looking at him.

“And you think I do?” he asked, standing in front of you. “I hate this shit.”

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes doubtfully.

“Do you though?”

Minho cocked his head, confusion on his face.

“I saw the look on your face when Chan suggested the stupid idea. You looked like a kid in a fucking candy shop.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, as he moved to the side of your desk, his gestures telling you that perhaps he wasn’t taking this as seriously as he should have been.

“Look, I’m sorry my face doesn’t always look the way you want it to, but I’m offended that you’d even ask me that.”

“So why didn’t you argue it with him?!” you spat, your tone rising with the latent panic. “Of all the times to open your mouth, Minho, this would have been one of them.”

“And where would that have got us?” he replied, perching himself on the edge of the table. “It would have turned into a pointless screaming match, and you know it.”

You scoffed under your breath, shrugging off his hand as he placed it affectionately on your arm.

“If a screaming match is what it takes for this to go away, I’ll gladly indulge. And so should you.” You muttered.

Minho inhaled deeply, rubbing his temples in frustration, which only added to your own annoyance.

“What are you so afraid of?” He asked quietly, tugging your arm out of supporting your head. Taking your hand in his carefully, he swept his thumb in small circles over the skin, and you knew it was meant as a comfort.

You avoided his gaze, but didn’t remove yourself this time.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you breathed, your voice quieting with the breaking of your resolve. “I can’t do this again, Minho. I won’t.”

Minho shook his head, placing his hand on the back of your chair as he spun it around to face him. He sunk to his knees, taking both your hands in his, holding them in your lap.

“Listen to me,” he began, his tone firm. “It’s just a dance. A show. Nothing more than that. I have no fucking intention of going through with the rest of the night, or even stepping foot in that play room. I haven’t since we tied the knot, and I don’t ever plan to.”

Hesitantly, you brought your eyes to his, the visage of his face blurring with your watery vision.

“Watch me. On stage,” he continued, lacing his fingers with yours. “Know that when I’m up there tonight, I’m dancing for you. And only you. Can you do that for me?”

Feeling your nerves subside, if only a little, you gave him a gentle nod in response. He smiled reassuringly, clearly relieved that you seemed to be coming around, leaning over you before he graced you with a tender kiss.

“What about the clients for the play room though?” You asked, sniffing absently against his lips.

He shrugged, holding your face in both his hands. He repeated the kiss, gentle before replying with a raspy whisper, other things clearly presenting themselves as being more important to his mind.

“I’ll handle it. As long as we send them away without Chan finding out, we’re home free. Let me talk to Butler.”

Brushing his lips over yours, you felt the chair dip backwards as he placed his weight on the seat. You lids slid shut helplessly, his effect on you becoming all you could feel, his touches healing every sickening pang of anxiety you felt earlier, like he was all you ever needed to soothe any kind of pain.

He deepened the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth, slinking against yours with that expert technique that rendered you weak. Your fingers curled into the material of his shirt, his free hand taking hold at the side of your neck.

“We don’t have time…” you muttered, your complexion flushing with the notable change in atmosphere.

“I’ll make time-” He purred, hitching his hands under your hips as he lifted you from the plush chair and onto the desk in one swift motion.

An ornery smile broke out across your lips as Minho frantically worked your skirt over your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the table in line with his own straining erection. Not a single thought in mind, you fumbled with the buckle of his trousers, your foreheads flush against each other as heaved breaths quickly took over, creating a purely carnal aura between the two of you. He all but ripped off your panties, tossing them to the carpeted floor while you gasped in surprise.

While you definitely wanted him on a lustful level, you almost felt like he was trying to prove a point with this. Showing you that _you_ were the only one who could make him feel this way. Solidifying his love for you, in the way he knew best.

Freeing his solid length, you threw your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, eager for him to take you.

Holding your gaze, his eyes dark and jaw locked with anticipation, he aligned himself with your entrance. One hand firm on your waist, the other holding the back of your lithe neck, he eased himself into you with a single, sultry thrust.

“Ah- _fuck_ …” He groaned deeply through gritted teeth, his large fingers wrapping around your throat gently as he began to move, offering you no time to adjust to the utterly delicious stretch he gave you.

“Ruin me, baby-” You whined, desperate for him to give you everything he had. You needed this.

A sinful moan resounded from his throat at your needy appeal, the sound sending sparks of want through you. His hand slid from your neck to your chest as he pushed you back to the desk, deftly hooking your legs over the crook his arms. He hitched his own foot up to the chair, granting you a brutal snap of his hips that made you cry out in desire.

Driving into you with brutal force, pornographic slaps of skin on skin and squelching moisture filled the room, complimented by your desperate moans of pleasure as he fucked you with monstrous intensity.

You bounced helplessly up the table, fingers clinging to the edges and knuckles turning white, the circulation cutting off. His assault on your pussy was relentless, driven purely by the need to feel you around him, and you relished in it.

“D- Don’t s- stop…” You whimpered, reaching down to your own thighs as you spread them even further apart for him.

“ _Jesus_ you’re so f- fucking needy, taking me so well, my little angel… _Ugh_ -”

His words were cut short as the pressure you were wrapping around his cock proved to be too much, his length stiffening inside you in response.

“You l- like fucking your wife like this?” You teased, challenging him to give it to you harder, spurring him on.

“Trying to rile me up, baby? Cus it’s fucking working-” He hissed, biting on his lip as he slid his length out to the head, before plunging it back in with one hard thrust. You mewled desperately, the sensation of being filled so quickly overstimulating you to the point of collapse.

You watched in adoration when he threw his head back, admiring him for the thousandth time in his fucked out state. Even now you felt like you’d never get enough of that expression on his face, the one where he simply couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Cum inside me, Minho… Fill me up, p- please-”

Your words were all it took for Minho to rut his seed into you, firm, abrupt snaps of his hips driven by his trembling moans as he came hard and fast. The hot sensation inside you made you keen, lavishing in the way he claimed you as his own.

Breathless and sweaty, Minho gradually released your legs, pulling out of you and grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on your desk. He stuffed a few between your legs before cleaning himself up, keeping his hooded eyes locked to you the entire time.

“So…” he panted, collecting your torn panties from the floor. “Does this mean we’re good now?”

You shot him a quizzical look as you swiped up the cum that had trickled down your thighs, rearranging your ridden skirt back around you.

“What do you mean, ‘good’?”

He handed the panties to you, amused at the expression on your face as you held them up for inspection, seeing them noticeably ruined.

“Well, that was make up sex, right?”

“Baby, make up sex only works when couples argue. We didn’t argue. Not really.” You half laughed, tossing the destroyed panties and dirty tissues into the small bin under your desk.

“Okay,” he shrugged, buckling up his trousers. “Well I hope you at least know that I don’t want anyone else now.”

His words hit your ears in a confusing mix, one that you couldn’t quite be sure as to the meaning of, yet you knew it somehow didn’t sit right with you.

“What the hell does that mean?”

He shrugged again, sweeping his hands through his hair.

“Well… we just had sex. I don’t know about you, but my drive is spent now… or for the next few hours, anyway. No temptation to do anything stupid.”

You narrowed your eyes, palpable shock setting in with the implication of what he’d just said.

“Please tell me you don’t mean that the way I think you do…”

He gawped at you with wide eyes, a look of genuine innocence on his face, as if he hadn’t just said what he had.

“So you’re telling me…” you snarled, taking a step closer to him with the inherent anger that rose up. “That if we hadn’t fucked just now, you _would_ be tempted to go to the play room tonight?! To do something _stupid_?!”

“Y/N, that’s not what I-”

“You’re a total piece of shit sometimes, you know that? Is that the only reason you just screwed me?”

He shook his head with exasperation, his arms outstretched to touch you, but you took a step away from him as you held a hand up in defence.

“Angel, I just meant that it might make you feel better to know the temptation isn’t even there! That came out wrong, I-”

“How the fuck did you think I’d take that?! Why would you think that’d make me feel better?! I’m your fucking wife, do you not know me by now?!” You yelled, turning away from him.

“Will you just chill out for a minute and listen to-”

“Do what you want, Minho. Satisfy your sex drive. It’s clearly out of control.” You hissed, flinging open the door to your office.

You were quaking with so many emotions, every fibre of your being seething with indignant disbelief and rage at the nerve of the man. You could barely believe he’d dared to say something so pig headed.

“And for the record?” you added, turning back over your shoulder. “ _This_ is an argument. And it’ll take more than your half-cut make up sex to fix it.”

* * *

##### Standing at the very back of the club, out of sight of the bewitched clients, you felt yourself rapidly descending into that same situation you’d found yourself in six months ago.

The soft, subtle scent of vanilla. The gentle, sultry jazz music flooding through the hidden speakers that surrounded the club proper. The red hued glow of the spotlights that illuminated the main stage, highlighting the ethereal, half naked man who was currently grinding and popping his body to the music in a thin black choker and the tightest of leather trousers that did notable wonders for his thighs, his trademark red silk shirt discarded to the glittered stage floor.

And quite unsurprisingly, watching him like this brought back the exact same emotions you’d had all that time ago. It was deja vu in the most literal sense of the term.

Except now, the man that every person in this room was entranced by, leering over and hooked to, was your husband.

Six months ago, he’d been a frustratingly stunning thorn in your side. A constant source of heartache and confusion, made worse by the fact that he was also your one constant source of ecstasy. So much so, that you thought you’d never meet another man who could satisfy the cravings you bore deep down.

Although, that had only lasted until your first night at Seventh Heaven. Your first and only night with the man who’d addressed you as his kitten, for one blissful evening of pleasure.

So much had changed since then. Or at least, you thought it had.

You’d thought that watching the performance, not as a client, but as an organiser of said event, would give you a sense of immunity to its’ effect. You thought you’d be able to look at it objectively. Remembering _who_ Minho was and what he meant to you, would give him an identity, and you’d reasoned that him having an identity would take away most of the mystique that surrounded the performance. Because in truth, that was half the excitement. The mystery man that made your heart race. The element of danger wrought through the unknown, never knowing what he was going to do or what was coming next.

But, in reality, it simply didn’t work that way. Minho being your husband meant nothing when he was doing this. It was an empty title that could easily have not existed. You could see it on his face, and feel it in your gut.

He was the image of the same man who’d shirked his commitment to you all those months ago. The man you thought you’d never have. The man you’d believed was unobtainable.

His eyes shone as he danced, a wicked glistening that came from nothing but sheer enjoyment. As much of a showman as he was, you knew his expressions at the crowd, his gestures and movements weren’t something that could be forced. He was thriving off it. Perhaps even moreso than the first time you saw him dance. You were watching someone reclaim a stage they’d never wanted to let go.

So much for dancing for you.

For a moment… you wondered if the paths you’d taken were the right ones.

You’d known Minho was always something of a free spirit. You knew that better than anyone. Was it wrong for you to have tied him down? Wrong to expect him to give you the commitment he’d promised he could? You couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to keep a rabid tiger in a cage, convincing yourself that any day now, you’d surely tame it.

The small lights surrounding the stage dimmed as Minho prepared for his next performance. The part you’d been dreading the most as your gut churned helplessly.

One by one, they flicked back on, shining rays of soft pink and red over the club. And right in the middle, as if by magic, was the plush leather chair adorned with his crimson red throw. A prop he used before he stripped, rendering the people in the crowd mystified as he reeled them in, hook, line and sinker to almost ludicrous effect. You’d experienced that first hand.

You crossed your arms over your chest, bringing your thumbnail between your teeth as your eyes remained fixed to the stage. The darkness you were stood in concealed the stress on your face well enough, but your insides were positively bubbling as your husband began to stalk through the audience.

You followed where his gaze went, wondering which one he’d pick.

The pretty blonde at the front? The petite red head or her friend? The giddy giggling brunette that was practically rutting against her seat?

Your subconscious assessed every single girl in the room, doing rapid comparisons of the things they appeared to have that you didn’t. Slightly bigger chest, plumper lips, wider eyes or a slimmer waist. _Fuck_ , you hated this.

Minho adopted a casual slink as he wandered through the tables and chairs, flashing sly smiles and irreverent smirks at the people who hoped beyond hope that it’d be them. The red feather duster in his hand trailed over the bare shoulders of the girl who’d eventually caught his eye, and your heart sank.

The red head. Of course. Busty and petite, just the way he liked them.

He outstretched his hand to her. She took it.

He led her back through the club, up the stairs to the main stage. She smiled like she was the only thing he could see.

He settled her into the chair, sinking to his knees in front of her and sweeping his hand through his steely grey tresses. She gawped in wide eyed awe.

He rolled his body to the sensual beat, gliding his hands up the arms of the chair as he leaned over her. She opened her legs for him, head thrown back against the seat in bliss.

He tickled the duster up her arms, leaning over the back of the chair as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. She bit down on her lip, eyes fluttering closed at whatever he’d uttered.

And you simply couldn’t take anymore.

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up, carrying you away from the scene of borderline adultery playing out before your eyes. The thudding in your chest was deafening, the waves of nausea and anxiety giving you that bitter sickness you’d never wanted to feel again.

“Madam, where are you-”

You shot past Butler, flinging through the heavy velvet curtain and up the stairs to the main entrance. Air. You needed air. You couldn’t breathe.

“Let me out.” You commanded to the burly man who acted as security, one whose name you never got.

He promptly opened the door for you, granting you the escape you needed.

The moment you got outside, the chill night air whipped around you like a freezing blanket of awakening. You closed your eyes, stumbling forwards, gasping for breath like you’d never inhaled oxygen before. The sudden inhalation burnt your throat, but you welcomed the sensation.

Resting your hands against the cold brick wall, you doubled over, staring at the stabilising concrete of the ground as you tried to compose yourself.

A small moment of clarity was all you’d wanted, but being out here like this… you felt a sudden overwhelming temptation to just… run away from it all. Because you could. You _could_ just leave, and never come back. Put this hell hole behind you and forget about the pain it caused.

There was no one around to stop you. No one to tell you that you were insane, or that you weren’t thinking clearly. In fact, the one person that _should_ be here to stop you, was grinding on another woman. Satisfying her instead of being the grounding force you needed right now.

So with emotions running high, and not a rational thought present, you began to run.

Your heels clacked repeatedly against the stone cobbles of the alley, your suit blazer flapping around you in the upwind. Your tresses flew around your face, the tears you’d been containing up until now taking their chance to escape as you started to sob.

You knew he was just doing a job. You knew he was just earning a paycheck. You knew it hadn’t been his idea.

But you also knew, that he wouldn’t be the same after this. He’d no longer be satisfied with the mundane life of monogamy and marriage.

He was becoming unobtainable, all over again.

* * *

##### “Well, I’m sorry-”

Gina huffed, pouring you another glass of wine before she refilled her own. “But just how fucking stupid are you?!”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your arms into the air before letting them plop back to her sofa.

“I told you, it wasn’t my idea.” You replied, your tone deadpan.

Gina hummed, cocking her head at you.

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Still doesn’t explain why you went through with it though. Where’s the feisty bitch in you gone?”

You sighed deeply, dragging yourself off the sofa to reach for your wine.

“She’s on vacation. Permanently.”

You took a large gulp of the Zinfandel, wincing as the liquor engulfed your throat. It was good, and just what you needed right now. Gina was just what you needed right now.

“Listen,” she stated, shuffling up the sofa towards you. “You need to bring that boy in line. I know it wasn’t your idea to let him dance, but that doesn’t mean you have to just stand aside and let it happen. What if this is the start of a deep, dirty spiral of affairs, Y/N? What then? You’ve heard of the term gateway, right?”

“Gina, he wouldn’t cheat. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. He’s just… he’s just _him_.”

Gina scoffed at your blatant denial, taking a sip of her own wine.

“Sure. You tell yourself that. Just don’t come crying to me when he’s balls deep in some uptight rich girl that paid him for a fuck.”

“Hey!” You yelled, holding a hand up to her. “Don’t fucking do that. The last thing I need are images like that. Bitch.”

She looked at you in sheepish apology, pursing her lips.

“Sorry. All I’m saying is that you’re obviously insecure about a lot things, one of them being this marriage, and him even _being_ at Seventh Heaven is a bad idea. I know he says he’s not tempted, but that place is the literal embodiment of temptation, Y/N. It’s like putting an addict in front of his drug and telling him to resist it using nothing but willpower.”

You nodded in quiet agreement, knowing she was right.

“Why don’t you talk to him again? If he’s really everything you say he is, he’ll ditch it for you,” she said softly before her tone changed into something more defensive. “And screw this Chan guy, you don’t owe him anything. What kind of a boss suggests something like that anyway? I mean, has he ever heard of employment rights? Asshole.”

“I know I don’t owe him anything, G. But Minho feels like he does. And… I’m not sure I’d even want to hear his answer if I asked him to leave there again.”

Gina raised an eyebrow at you, absently taking a drink from her wine glass.

“You don’t think he would?”

You shrugged, throwing your head back into the cushions.

“I don’t know.”

Talking things over with Gina usually made you feel better. More often than not, she acted as the voice of reason that gave you an alternative point of view. A fresh pair of eyes to look at a situation objectively, giving impartial advice without being too attached to the whole thing.

But this time, she wasn’t. She wasn’t giving the advice she wanted to, because she knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it in your fragile state. And you knew what that advice was.

“Am I stupid for holding on to this?” You eventually asked, your tone quiet.

“Oh, honey,” Gina purred, soothing your hair back from your forehead. “You’re not stupid for being in love, if that’s what you think. And you’re not stupid for trying to make a marriage work. That’ll never be stupid.”

You looked at her through your peripherals, waiting for the inevitable 'but’.

“But…” She sighed. “I think you’re stupid for trying to deal with it alone. Talk to him. Explain your feelings. I’m sure he’ll understand. And keep that temper in check, give him a chance to speak. Okay?”

* * *

##### You’d only been out of Gina’s apartment for a few minutes before your phone started to ring.

In all honesty, you were surprised your phone hadn’t been blowing up with calls and texts the second you’d left the club, but you suspected that Butler might have had something to do with that. He’d been the only one to see the state you were in as you all but sprinted out of there. You made a mental note to thank him for whatever he’d done.

Grabbing the vibrating phone from your pocket, you answered it without bothering to check the caller ID.

“Hello?”

_“Y/N? Is everything okay?”_

Your husband’s panicked voice from the end of the phone made you feel somewhat better, in as much as you were glad that he’d even bothered to call at all.

“I’m fine. I just… needed to run some errands.” You replied.

A pause created an awkward silence, before he eventually spoke.

_“Are you sure?”_

“Yeah. Why?”

_“I, uh… Just thought you might have needed some space. After the show.”_

Sickening visions of Minho grinding on the redhead flashed back to you, and you shook your head violently.

“No, of course not, I-”

_Talk to him. Explain your feelings. I’m sure he’ll understand.  
_

Echoes of Gina’s words from earlier cut you off the moment you were about to make some half-cut excuse to convince him that you were okay. You immediately wanted to kick yourself.

“Actually,” you breathed, steeling your resolve. “I’m not okay. I’d like to talk about it. About us.”

_“Us?”_

You hummed in response, noting the changed tone to his voice.

“Are you still at the club?”

_“Y- Yeah. I was just about to leave, though.”_

“Can you wait for me? I’ll be right there.”

_“Okay.”_

Your heart pounded in your chest, your pace quickening as you walked down the dark street towards your new destination.

“I’ll see you soon then.”

_“Hey-”_

“What is it?”

_“I… I love you, Y/N. I really do. You know that, right?”_

You smiled helplessly, the warm confession falling on your ears like a long forgotten melody.

“I love you too.”

Ending the call, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you gathered your thin blazer closer around you.

Your mind was racing, expelling a thousand thoughts a minute as you tried to mentally put your worries and concerns into terms he’d understand. You wondered how he’d react. You hoped he’d just smile, tell you that you were stressing for nothing, and agree to finally, really leave Seventh Heaven for good.

You knew the club wasn’t the root of all your problems, but it was certainly a catalyst for them. It enabled Minho’s more adventurous tendencies, and you had to nip it in the bud before it did irreversible damage to your marriage. Gina had been right. It was a gateway.

But despite that, you loved him. And that, ultimately, was what this all came down to.

Could you ever bear to part from the one man who’d quickly become your centre of existence? You felt like that was easier said than done.

Your heels clicked against the stone pavement as you picked up your speed, your eagerness to see Minho only growing with the passing seconds. The intermittent light of the street lamps acted as your guide, illuminating you every so often, causing you to squint when the brightness proved to be too harsh for your eyes.

Turning the corner, the alley of Seventh Heaven finally came into view.

You broke into a hurried jog, holding your hands in your pockets, shivering as the midnight air nipped at your legs.

You swept into the alley, the only visible light coming from the familiar glowing red sign above the singular door. It was admittedly eerie, despite the fact you knew it was entirely safe.

When out of the corner of your eye, the silhouette of a leaning figure caused you to stop in your tracks. A robust plume of white smoke emitted from the figure’s mouth, rising into the air and evaporating against the red hue of the sign with the gentle gust of wind that followed.

You couldn’t see their face clearly, but they had the build of a man. Tall, with longer than average hair that just fell past sharp cheekbones.

They dragged themselves lazily off the wall, one hand stuffed in the pocket of their jeans as the other tossed a half drawn cigarette to the ground, the embers dissipating as they connected with the damp concrete.

An unnerving sense of familiarity crept over you as you watched. They took a single step out of the darkness that cloaked them, sparing a nonchalant glance in your direction.

Your heart all but stopped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as your gaze met his.

“It’s been a long time, kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
> ~ Support via [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)


	3. Chapter 3

##### “It’s been a long time, kitten.”

The dull red glow of the sign bled over his familiar features, sending you reeling to the same place of uncertain reality you’d drowned in the first time you’d seen him.

Impossibly perfect lips, deep brown eyes and a jaw line that could cut metal.

“H- Hyunjin…?”

A gentle smile broke out across his face, his lingering gaze raking over you from top to toe, drinking every part of you in.

“How have you been?” He purred.

For a moment, the ability to string words together escaped you completely, evaporating with the sense of bewilderment that his sudden appearance had caused. Until the only question you could assemble blurted from your mouth.

“Why… are you here?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, taking a step closer. His midnight black locks fell around his face, sweeping gently in the breeze of the evening air. He seemed slimmer than the last time you’d seen him.

“Straight to the point I see,” he mused. “Then I won’t waste any time. I want my job back.”

“Your… job? You want to come back? To the club?”

Hyunjin nodded, his expression nonchalant and uncharacteristically hard to read as he approached you. Absently, he reached out for your hand, taking it in his, and he was bitterly cold to the touch. His slender fingers, the same ones that had taken you to rabid highs more than once, now seemed almost frail as he swept his thumb over your knuckles affectionately. His closer proximity gave you the clarity to see that he was definitely slimmer, and as a result, nowhere near as lean as he’d been before.

“I do. I missed this place… as crazy as it sounds. I’ve had nothing but time to think while I’ve been gone. And I guess I don’t think I’ll find anywhere else to belong.”

Still too dumbstruck to really process what he was saying, a strong vibration in your pocket pulled you from the moment. You quickly freed your hand from his, grabbing your phone and checking the caller ID.

Minho.

“Uh, Hyunjin I’m so sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be. Why don’t you come to the club tomorrow? Meet with Chan, you can talk to him about it, I’m sure he’ll-”

“No,” he interrupted sharply. “This can’t wait.”

You shook your head at him, fighting to find an excuse he’d accept just so he’d let you leave. You knew Minho didn’t take kindly to waiting.

“Okay… well, I’m sure he’s probably gone home already so there’s not much I can do right now.”

“Just come to my place. Later. We can talk about it there. I’m back in the old apartment.” He stated, his tone firm.

You gawped at him openly, wondering if you’d heard him right with that callous suggestion.

“Hyunjin, I can’t do that, I’m-”

“What? Married? Does he control _everything_ you do?” He taunted, eyes flicking to the ring on your finger.

Another rattling vibration from your pocket seeped through your clothes, and you bounced on your feet in urgency, desperately conscious that Minho was probably seething by now.

“Listen, I _really_ need to get going. Go home, okay? We’ll talk about this tomorrow!”

Without giving him a chance to respond or stop you again, you dodged around him as quickly as you could, making a beeline for the metal door.

“See you later, then. Old apartment, don’t forget!” He called after you, watching your swift exit with quiet amusement.

You threw a hand over your shoulder in a halfhearted goodbye, choosing to ignore his baseless assumption that you’d actually take him up on his invitation, opting instead to unlock the large metal door as you pushed it open and stepped inside.

The familiar scent of Seventh Heaven washed over you as you all but ran down the stairs, shoving through the heavy velvet curtain to the main area of the club.

It was deathly quiet inside the bar, with all the clients long since having left or been taken to the play rooms. The stage had been tidied, the curtains closed with the end of the performance, and you assumed Minho must be in the staff room, as was typical of him to retire to when things had quieted for the evening.

The lingering warmth inside the club, no doubt a simple product of body heat and searing pheromones, began to crawl under your skin as you walked to the back rooms. You shrugged off your blazer as you went, fanning yourself with your hand in an attempt to cool off.

Approaching the staff room, you peeked your head around the door, expecting to see Minho.

But it was perfectly empty.

Furrowing your brow, the next place you headed to was the office. Admittedly, it would have been unusual to find him there, seeing as he usually avoided all administrative places and duties like the plague unless he wanted something, but it was the only other place you could think of.

Jogging down the corridor, you noticed the door of your office was open just a crack. Pushing it open when you approached, you once again peeked around the frame. Empty.

You stepped inside, clicking your tongue in frustration as you tossed the blazer over the back of your chair. You grabbed your phone from the pocket, foot tapping impatiently as you swiped away the missed calls you’d had from him and dialled his contact.

 _***** _ _**ring ring*** _

_***** _ **_ring ring*_ **

_“The person you’re calling is not currently available, please leave a-”_

“What in the fuck-”

Grumbling in growing annoyance, you threw your phone to the desk, sweeping your hands through your hair, positively racking your brains for an idea as to where he’d be. He couldn’t have gone home, you’d have surely passed him, right? And he’d been calling you not a few moments before…

And then, as if the universe was attempting to send you a message, your eyes fell on the scribbled schedule that was still on your desk, for no apparent rhyme or reason.

You mindlessly picked it up, noticing the amendment that had been made to it, in someone else’s handwriting.

  * **Changbin** : Temptress x3 _(M, F, F)_
  * **Jisung** : Sunshine x2 _(M, F)_
  * **Seungmin** : Sweetheart x1 _(M)_
  * **Jeongin** : Honey x2 _(F, F)_
  * **Felix** : Princess x1 _(F)_
  * **Chan** : Baby Girl x3 _(F, F, F)_
  * ~~**Hyunjin** : Kitten x~~
  * ~~**Minho** : Angel x~~ _x1_



Minho… Angel x1?

Your heart stopped, the melancholy explanation for his disappearance presenting itself like an unwanted rash.

“No, no, no-”

Chucking the schedule back to your desk, you broke into a sprint as you rushed from your office and headed in the direction of the play rooms.

You ran through the mock waiting room, dragging open the heavy metal double doors that allowed the clients access. The same way you’d entered during your first night here.

The lashings of black leather and red velvet were decorated with a dull glow as the small spotlights in the walls and ceiling illuminated the hallway. Despite the soundproofing the rooms were supposed to have, the immediate sounds of wanton groans and other carnal activities seeped into your ears as you walked tentatively past the doors, each one of them bearing their own emblem, representative of their word.

You knew which room was his. Or, which had _been_ his.

The one, lone door at the very end of the corridor, embossed with a pair of angel wings, set out of the way of the others. At the time, that had been indicative of Minho’s popularity when he was still acting as an entertainer. Now, it went unused. Neither of you had set foot in there since he’d agreed to turn his back on it.

Your heart rate quickened with every step you took, the muffled grunts and whines of clients in the midst of being satisfied surrounding you from all angles, in addition to those of the boys. The heady rhythm that was doing nothing to ease your nerves, more for fear that you’d hear the one moan you knew beyond all familiarity. 

Approaching his door, you gently placed your hand against the wood, followed by your ear.

And the quiet sounds that crept through brought bile to your throat, a profound feeling of sickness churning in your gut.

The moaning of a woman… the sounds of squeaking. Gentle slaps of skin, repeating at a consistent pace. The tell tale signs of a deluxe package session.

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body screaming incoherently at you, your eyes stinging with the anticipation of the sight behind the door. You pushed down on the handle, mind running a thousand thoughts a second.

Gritting your teeth, you went all in, ripped the bandage clean off as you used every bit of strength in your arms to fling the door open. It bounced off the hinges with a firm thud as you stepped inside, and you attempted to absorb the scene in front of you.

The petite red head from earlier. She was hanging from a suspension rig by her wrists, bound in black leather cuffs with a thin red rope tied around her breasts and waist. Covered in sweat and with a burning complexion, she screamed in surprise as you offered your abrupt, uninvited interruption.

Your eyes fell on the tensed out man between her legs, which were currently hooked around his hips as he momentarily stopped his relentless pounding of her pussy to gawp at you in shock.

“Y/N?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up. Death would have been too merciful a punishment for what you’d just done.

“Ch… Chan…?”

“Get out! Get out of here! Fuck!”

Forcing your limbs to move before Chan all but ripped your head off, you quickly grabbed the door and slammed it closed behind you, breaking into a run down the hallway.

That had been nothing short of the single most embarrassing thing you’d ever done in your life, but the overwhelming sense of relief that now replaced the dread made it worth it. 

You knew Minho would never do anything like that to you. He couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him.

You almost wanted to damn Gina for even putting those seeds of doubt into your head. You knew your husband well enough by now to know that when he said he loved you, he meant it.

As if by magic, for no apparent reason other than the high of assurance that you were riding on, the doubts and concerns you’d had about him staying at Seventh Heaven seemed to evaporate.

Sure, he’d danced tonight. Yes, he’d enjoyed it. And fine, for a moment, you were unsure about a lot of things. But cheating? No. There was no way. What had you even been worried about?

You came to a stop when you got back to your office, taking a second to catch your breath. While you were glad the worst hadn’t been true, you were still none the wiser as to where he’d disappeared to.

Checking your phone for new messages, you were frustrated to see there were none.

Where the fuck had he got to-

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you broke into an instant smile at the sight of the man you’d been looking for.

Clad in the red silk shirt that exposed just enough of the curves of his collarbone and upper chest, the leather trousers and that thin choker around his thick neck, he looked perfectly fuckable.

“Where have you been?” You whined, approaching him quickly.

You threw your arms around his middle, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest and relishing in the familiarity of his presence.

“You’ll never guess what I just did, Chan is going to fucking kill-”

You glanced up at him to share the moment of embarrassment, but stopped mid sentence. 

A strained expression lay rife on his face, one of almost physical pain, and one you’d certainly never seen before.

Something wasn’t right.

“What… what’s wrong?”

His gaze remained locked to the floor. His jaw tensed, his whole demeanour so utterly different from the usual oozing confidence he carried.

“Baby… I,” he stammered on the words, though they were barely audible anyway.

As your self assurance began to fade with his mannerisms, a subtle scent that seemed entirely unfamiliar to you swept over your nostrils. Fragrant and citrus in flavour… definitely not his usual cologne. And it certainly wasn’t yours.

The combination of another woman’s perfume on his clothes and the regret ridden picture on his face sent icy tendrils of dread through every pore of your body, and you took an instinctive step backwards, your arms dropping to your sides.

“Minho…?” You coaxed quietly.

He shook his head, eyes screwed shut as he tried to find the words.

“I… have something to tell you. But before I do, I need you to know that… that I’m _so_ fucking sorry, baby… And I love you-”

You let out a half laugh of disbelief, bringing your hand to your chest in some vain attempt to keep your heart together as you felt it begin to tear at the seams. His words from the earlier phone call sprang back to you. The confession of love that had struck you as being entirely out of place, and now you knew why.

It had come from a place of guilt.

“What have you done?” You asked, tremors setting in.

Minho finally looked at you, his endlessly deep brown eyes glistening with the makings of tears. He choked on the words, clearing his throat.

“Why are you apologising?!” You shouted, your tone rising with sickening panic.

“I just…”

More hesitation.

“Spit it out, Minho!”

He exhaled deeply, resigning himself to the storm.

“It was just a stupid kiss. A minute, no- a second of weakness, I-”

_Fuck._

The next words out of his mouth faded to nothing. You heard nothing. Not the desperate appeals he was throwing at you. Not the justifications nor the excuses he was giving. Not a single thing.

Your head went utterly blank, and all you could do was stare.

Straight at his lips. The perfectly formed, light pink lips that belonged to you. The lips you’d denied for so long for fear that they’d break down every bit of resolve you held around him.

The lips that had betrayed you. _He_ had betrayed you.

“- doesn’t change how I feel about you, doesn’t change anything!” He continued.

Blinking the tears from your eyes, you came back to earth with a thud as the initial shock began to subside.

Despite all your questions and your growing need to scream and shout at him, there was only one thing you really wanted to know. Not when, or how. Not even who.

“Why…?”

Minho threw his hands in the air, approaching you in a blind rush of his own panic. He took you in his arms, holding your cheek in the palm of his hand as you remained perfectly still.

“I don’t know why, Y/N… I don’t have a good excuse, I’m a fucking idiot, I realised what I was doing too late but I just got so caught up in everything, I-”

“Am I not enough?”

Your raspy whisper, ultimately, summarised everything you’d wanted to ask, in some form or another. Encapsulated the nuance of your insecurities. It was a simple question, yet one that you found yourself asking far too often.

Minho looked at you in strained disbelief, as if the question somehow had the gall to offend him. He brought his free hand to your other cheek, holding you firmer still.

“Angel, you’re _everything_.”

Enough was enough. You clearly weren’t everything. If you were, he wouldn’t have done this.

“You kissed someone else… Was she better?”

“Please don’t do this,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t even think about it, it was nothing, meant less than nothing-”

“But you did it anyway.” You replied, your tone surprisingly stable as you came to terms with what needed to happen.

Maybe you’d been right along. The nagging doubts and second thoughts were manifesting as everything you feared they would.

“Let me go.” You whispered, pulling your face from his hands.

“No.”

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, crushing you with the force of his embrace as he held on to you.

“Minho, let me go. Now.”

He ignored your request once more, burying his face into your neck as he held you tighter.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his words muffled by your hair. “What if you don’t come back?”

“Wouldn’t that be what you deserve?” You muttered.

Minho tensed, every muscle in his body contracting with the strength he was putting into his hold on you.

“Please don’t. Please don’t leave me… I… I’ll die if you do-”

You pushed against his chest, trying to create some measure of space between you as Minho’s lips connected with your cheek. He was desperate. Frantically trying to rebuild your trust in him all at once through the same acts that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

“Minho, stop-”

His lips brushed over your cheek, pressing to the underside of your jaw as you tilted your head away from him. You didn’t want this.

“Baby, please…”

His alcohol ridden breath was too warm on your skin. His hold was crushing, his hands too firm on your waist as he backed you up to the wall with messy, stumbling steps.

“Minho!” You cried, shoving at his shoulders with everything you had as he feverishly pressed his lips to yours, trying to get you to see that he didn’t want anything else with his misplaced affections.

You yelled against his lips, a high pitched whine that had nowhere near the intonation of passion he’d wanted. Your hands formed into tight fists, smacking at his shoulders as he attempted to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He broke away for just a moment, and you took the small opportunity as the only one you’d get.

Raising your hand, you planted a single, firm slap straight across his face.

The resounding sting pinched at your palm, an immediate picture of redness forming over his cheek. He held his eyes closed, frozen in place. Like he hadn’t even felt it.

The trembling in your bones became too much for you to contain as you began to shake, and the tears rolled down your cheeks in streams.

“Stay… away from me.”

The simple command came out as a quaking breath, and with the last bit of strength you had, you forced him out of your way, quickly grabbing your blazer from the chair before you ran out of the room.

Everything was fucked. Your marriage. Your trust in him. The promises he’d made you. He’d ruined it all.

And there was only one place you could think of to get away from it all.

* * *

##### Standing outside the door to the apartment, you quickly began to wonder what the hell you’d been thinking.

This was, without question, the stupidest idea you’d ever had. The one thing you shouldn’t be doing right now was adding fuel to the fire of an already burning relationship. But the thought of being alone right now was vile. You didn’t want to bother Gina again, and you couldn’t face the inevitable grilling she’d throw at you. And you didn’t want to be with _him_ at home.

So here you were.

Taking a deep, calming breath, you tentatively knocked on the wooden door in front of you, shifting on your feet as the anticipation of waiting sunk into your nerves.

Mere moments passed, and the door opened.

Revealing a shirtless, wet haired Hyunjin with nothing but a white towel hung loosely around his waist.

“You’ve got impeccable timing, you know that?” He laughed, holding the door open for you to come inside.

You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from the godly image of the man who’d just invited you into his home as you stepped inside. You also didn’t miss that he seemed completely unfazed by your appearance.

“I can come back… if this is a bad time?” You asked, taking in the surroundings of the unnecessarily lavish apartment you’d only ever seen once before.

“It’s never a bad time,” he smiled, sweeping his damp tresses back over his face. “Not for you.”

You gave him a weak smile that you were sure came off as nothing but awkward, following him further inside as he gestured for you to do so.

“Want something to drink?” He asked, heading into the kitchen that was entirely visible through the open partition of the living room.

You probably shouldn’t. Drinking led to bad things.

“Sure.”

Hyunjin nodded, tucking the towel securely in on itself as he reached up to the top cupboard of his kitchen. You perched on the edge of the sofa, still feeling strange about being here at all as you harboured the _mild_ appreciation you had for his body when the muscles in his back tensed with his movements.

“I didn’t think you’d take me up on my invitation.” He called over his shoulder, taking a glass decanter of what looked like wine from the shelf.

“I… wasn’t going to.” You replied, figuring that honesty was the best policy.

Hyunjin scoffed, pouring two glasses full of the dark red liquid.

“So what changed?”

A sharp vibration in your pocket distracted you for a moment, and you pulled the phone from your blazer.

Minho’s named flashed up on the screen, and you were immediately refilled with sadness and looming regret. You wondered what he could possibly have to say. More apologies? Grovelling? It was just typical of him to not listen to you when you’d asked him to stay away.

You felt the seat of the sofa sink down as Hyunjin sat next to you, your phone still vibrating in your hand, Minho’s voice only a tap away.

“Hey… talk to me.”

The softness of Hyunjin’s tone and the expression of seemingly genuine concern on his face made you feel that, actually, you really could talk to him. That if you spoke, he’d listen. And that was all you wanted. Just someone to listen. Maybe he’d even give you advice, if he had it in him to do that.

So without thinking too much more about it, you held the power button on your phone, shutting Minho, and it, down as you took the wine glass from Hyunjin’s hand.

You offered him a weak thank you, bringing the glass to your lips as you took that first sip of the obviously vintage brand of red wine. It was dry and sweet on your tongue, leaving behind a rush of warmth as it slipped down your throat.

Hyunjin watched you with obvious adoration, sinking back into the cushions of his sofa as he did the same.

“So what’s going on?” He eventually asked.

You shook your head, sighing deeply as the tragic truth of your dire marriage teetered on your tongue.

“If I tell you…” you muttered, warning him in advance. “I don’t want any sarcastic comments. Or ‘I told you so’s’. Okay?”

Hyunjin nodded, raising an eyebrow as the intrigue set in.

“I just… wish things were different. With me. With Minho.”

“Different?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I… I love him. That’ll never change,” you replied, noting the distinct drop in Hyunjin’s expression at that statement. “But sometimes I wish he wasn’t so…”

You paused, trying to find the words you needed.

“Promiscuous?” Hyunjin piped in, taking another sip of his wine.

“No… I don’t think it’s that. Hard to please, maybe?” You replied, unsure of what you were trying to say.

“But don’t you think that comes from a place of promiscuity?”

You cocked your head at him, feeling yourself immediately jump on the defensive until he held a hand up to you, stopping the words from coming out of your mouth preemptively.

“Just think about it, Y/N. Look at what he does… _did_ for a living. And look at who he is now. Or who’s he trying to be. He’s gone from fucking different people every night to total monogamy. Even if he wasn’t promiscuous before, the job forces you to be, and that’s ingrained him now. It’s bound to screw his head up.”

“But… he said this is what he wanted. He’s the one that wanted this marriage.” You retorted.

It wasn’t that you thought Hyunjin wasn’t right. You’d had those thoughts about him yourself. But hearing it from someone who wasn’t directly involved made it all so much realer, and for some utterly bewildering reason, all you wanted to do was defend him.

“I’m not saying he doesn’t want it. I can’t possibly know what that idiot wants.” He sighed.

You shot him a glare at the needless insult, he did nothing but shrug it off.

“All I’m saying is that if you thought it was going to be all sunshine and roses with him, you’re even more naive than I thought you were.”

“I didn’t think it was going to be sunshine and-”

“You knew he had baggage when you agreed to fucking marry him. Whatever he did, just try putting yourself in his shoes. I guarantee there was alcohol involved, right? He wasn’t himself?”

Your eyes went wide with shock as you heard the unthinkable from the one person you thought you never would. Was he… defending Minho?

“The fact that he’d been drinking doesn’t justify it-”

“So he was drunk. Right. And did he apologise?” He continued, sitting upright in his seat.

“Yes, but he-”

“There we go.” He interrupted again, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. “He was just confused, drunk, and horny.”

You could do nothing but gawp back at him, hardly processing what you were hearing.

“He couldn’t have been horny, he fucked me not even a few hours before the show! And then had the nerve to tell me that he wouldn’t even be tempted because of it!” You replied, throwing your hand in the air as the end of your sentence adopted a higher tone of exasperation.

“That’s what promiscuous people do, Y/N. They’re horny. All the time. I should know. Also, you let him dance again?”

You nodded as you took another sip of your wine, ignoring the small admittance he’d just made about his sex drive as he shifted in his seat. He scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head.

“You really like testing him, huh? And speaking of, what did he actually do?”

“It doesn’t even matter anymore.” You huffed, sinking back into the cushions as a feeling of defeat washed over you. Perhaps Hyunjin was right. Maybe you’d been expecting too much from him so soon. Maybe you could cut him some slack this once?

“Just tell me.” He prodded, finishing his glass.

You hesitated, knowing what his reaction would be now that he’d taken the liberty of rationalising what had been a fairly major life crisis for you.

“He… kissed someone.”

The initial reaction you’d expected was there. He laughed into his drink, almost choking on the wine as he belittled the minor adultery.

But for a moment, a mere fleeting second before he played off what Minho had done, something altogether strange occurred. 

A minuscule glint in his eye flashed through as he heard your words. A sharp, flickering change, one that you’d never seen before, and one that was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

You dismissed it, of course. As nothing more than what it appeared to be. But you wondered why, all of a sudden, the hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention.

“Really? He didn’t even fuck them?” He laughed, sweeping his hand through his hair.

You shook your head gently, tearing your eyes away from his face as you finished your glass. A seeping feeling of dread prodded at you, the tiny expression replaying through your head as you now went out of your way to avoid his gaze.

“So… why did you come to me?” He asked, taking your glass from your hand as he stood from the sofa. “Looking for a little payback?”

You were about to protest, give some witty comeback as to how you’d never be tempted again, yet you were taken immediately off guard as you realised the towel he’d been wearing was now strewn on the sofa. Minus him.

Your eyes flitted to the kitchen, and through the partition, you were greeted by the sight of a very naked, perfectly sculpted Hyunjin, nonchalantly pouring you both a second glass of wine.

“Uh, I… I think you left your towel behind?” You stammered, your cheeks flushing with the sudden indecent exposure.

Hyunjin took the glasses in his hands, meandering back through to the living room. He placed them on the table, and you instantly clamped your hand over your eyes.

“Can’t you cover that up?” You whined, pointing out his unwanted nakedness once again.

“Oh please. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.” He scoffed, his tone needlessly smug.

“I’m aware, but that doesn’t mean I need to see it again!”

The subtle dipping of the sofa told you that he was now sitting down, and assuming he’d put his towel back on, you lowered your hand from your eyes.

Only to see his face, mere inches from yours.

Your breath hitched, your body tensing as his gaze raked from your lips to your eyes, taking you in like he was admiring a piece of modern art. His tresses were still damp, but dry enough in parts to show you how soft it might have been to the touch.

“What… are you doing?”

Hyunjin leaned over you, forcing you naturally back into the cushions of his sofa. One arm encased your side, the other sliding around your waist as he approached you with careful anticipation.

“Well this is why you’re here… Isn’t it?” He purred.

Your lids fluttered as he closed the distance between you, the atmosphere he created from the simple sexual pull he held rendering you lightheaded.

“N- No… I just-”

“Just what? Thought you’d use me to get back at your cheating husband?”

“Hey, he didn’t-”

A gentle sigh escaped you, cutting off your protests as his impossibly plump lips connected with the sensitive skin of your neck, and your head seemed to adopt a mind of its own as it tilted back for him.

You didn’t know why he had this effect on you. Didn’t know why you were so quick to submit to him. It was utterly involuntary.

The warmth of his naked body radiated over you as he loomed above, lowering himself between your legs. The thin cotton of your shirt did little to shield you from the stings of electricity he sent sparking as his hand slid subtly under your blazer.

“You can always come to me, you know…”

You shook your head in gentle denial, forcing your eyes open as you tried to free yourself from his entrancing advances.

“I’ll always make you feel loved… wanted…”

His mutterings were like honey, his soft lips tracing a steady path from your neck to your collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I can be what you need. I’ll be the only thing you’ll ever need.”

_Wait._

“Why can’t you just be mine? What does he have that I don’t…?”

_No._

“Just moan for me… Say my name like you did back then, kitten.”

The sultry tone to his words was gradually evaporating, slipping away like the burning skin of a cigarette. The clean white visage being inched back the longer it stays lit, revealing a husky, ashen layer of filth beneath the surface. The more he touched you, kissed you, the more apparent the dread inducing depravity of his utterings became. 

It made your skin crawl. It was an instinctive feeling, and something about it just felt… off.

“Hyunjin, stop-”

He pulled away from you, holding his weight on his arms as he locked your gazes.

And that same, fear instilling spark that you saw in his irises earlier, was entirely present in him.

Frantic, and far too intense to be natural, it gave you nothing but a rude awakening.

“I should go.” You breathed, shoving him off you.

Seeming to come back to his senses, he quickly sat up and pulled his towel back on, concealing the very apparent erection he now had. You stood from the sofa, rearranging your shirt and blazer around you and heading for the door without affording him a second glance.

“I’m sorry.” He called after you, recognising that he’d made you entirely uncomfortable.

Although you weren’t about to tell him why.

“Don’t be, I just… I just don’t think two wrongs make a right, you know?” You half laughed, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest.

“Shall I… come to the club tomorrow?” He asked.

You whipped your head around in his direction, remembering the reason he’d asked you to come over in the first place.

You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to tell him to stay away. But a simple feeling told you that pissing him off right now would be a seriously bad idea.

“Sure… I’ll let Chan know you’re coming. Come down before the show starts though. You remember the times?” You replied, keeping your voice as stable as you could.

Hyunjin nodded, flashing you that familiar smile you knew from him. As if the signs of something more sinister lurking beneath the surface had never shown themselves at all. What the hell was happening?

“Yeah, I remember. See you tomorrow then?”

You gave him a thumbs up, slipping on your shoes as you opened the front door with mild haste.

The second it closed behind you, uncontrollable, inexplicable tremors claimed you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, maintaining a swift jog down the corridor until you were out of his building.

The look on his face replayed through your mind like a broken record. Over and over again, you pictured it. And the more you thought about it, the worse the helpless fear grew.

Remembering that you’d turned your phone off, you quickly grabbed it from your pocket and flicked it to life, swiping away the missed calls and numerous messages from the other man in your life who’d hurt you.

Although right now, he was the only person you wanted to see.

Because Hyunjin had changed. Something in him, had changed. You couldn’t be sure what that was other than the purely unsettling sense of trepidation you were now awash with, and that certainly wasn’t something you’d ever felt around him before. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely the same person who’d left all those months ago.

You made a mental note not to turn your phone off around him again.

Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
> ~ Support via [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)


	4. Chapter 4

##### Warmth.

Healing, surrounding warmth was all you felt as the soft glow of the morning sunlight shone through the sheer white nets draped from your bedroom windows.

A feeling so profound and inherently soothing, you almost never wanted to wake up. Just lying here like this, for as long as you could, would be enough.

But the sharp shrill of your alarm clock had other plans for you today.

Unable to bring yourself to open your eyes, you dragged a single arm from the snug bed covers, pawing for your phone. Acting on muscle memory alone, you somehow managed to turn it off, opting to return to the security of the space beneath the duvet rather than tackle the cold of the outside world.

And your husband appeared to be of the same mind.

Whether it was instinct, or simple familiarity, you couldn’t be sure. But you were certainly past caring as he rolled towards you, still hazed in sleep, winding his arm around your middle. He held you flush to him, and the security he offered gave you a sense of simple comfort that you knew, you would never find anywhere else.

His rhythmic, gentle breaths fanned across the back of your neck, sending you deeper into a sense of contented dozing, your own breathing adopting the same pattern and pace, a synchrony that only two people who love one another can manage so involuntarily.

With the arrival of the morning, and after a relatively restful nights’ sleep, you’d been granted the clarity to see things differently.

You’d made it home last night with no issues, but Minho had already been asleep when you got back. You were loathe to end the day on an argument, always preferring to sort things out before you went to bed. But you could almost hardly blame him after you’d told him to stay away. What had you expected him to do?

Regardless of the strange encounter with Hyunjin yesterday, he hadn’t been wrong in much of what he’d said. He’d given you plenty to consider.

Minho, for all his problems, was trying. He’d made a stupid mistake. If it had gone any further than a kiss, you imagined things would be quite different right now. You wouldn’t have been able to forgive. 

But he _had_ stopped, and while you would have preferred it hadn’t happened at all, it was unfair to expect someone with his _tendencies_ to adapt to a life of monogamy without a hitch. The fact that he’d even recognised what he was doing was wrong, could, in some ways, be considered a small victory. Even if it did hurt.

Right now, despite all rational thought, you didn’t feel as though your marriage was ending. You didn’t feel like Minho was the worst person in the world, because truly, he simply wasn’t.

“When did you get back?”

The raspy murmur of your husband’s voice caused you to open one eye, and without entirely knowing why, a small smile crossed your lips.

“Late,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. “You were already sleeping.”

“You should have woken me up.”

You hummed softly, not needing to remind him that he never took kindly to being woken up without a good reason.

He nuzzled his face into your hair, giving a gentle squeeze around your waist.

“I’m still sorry.”

His gentle, sleep induced apology wrenched your heart, and you carefully turned around to face him, tucking your arm under your head.

“I know.”

He held his eyes closed, his hair messy and unkempt. You traced a finger across his forehead, sweeping the loose strands out of his face.

It was utterly hopeless to keep up an act of anger. Especially in these moments of private intimacy, when the problems and issues each of you battled with seemed all too insignificant in the face of your feelings for him.

Even like this, groggy and nowhere near presentable, he was still the most utterly handsome man you’d ever seen. The sharp bridge of his nose, high cheekbones and that perfect pout just begging to be kissed…

Adoration took over as you leaned in, barely a few inches, and you tenderly pressed your lips to his.

Initially, there was no reaction. Just a simple, affectionate kiss you gave that was over as quickly as it began. Meant to show him that you were no longer angry, even if upset lingered, but you weren’t going to hold it against him. Not anymore.

Until Minho’s eyes slid open just a crack, his arm encircled your waist once more, and he tugged you back to him. His lids slid closed again as he reconnected your lips, the sheets encasing you both in a private space just for you as he pulled them up over your heads.

The amber shade of the duvet surrounded you as he pulled you impossibly closer, your arousal deepening with the way he took such control.

Both of you clad in nothing but your underwear, the heat quickly became searing as you hooked your leg across his hip. His hand slid slowly over your leg, from calf to supple thigh, around the curve of your behind.

An inaudible sigh escaped you as a large hand pulled you in by the back of your hips, and he rolled gently into you at the same time, pressing his clothed erection to your heat.

 _God_ , you wanted him. Wanted him like you never had.

Reaching down between your legs, you deftly removed your panties and kicked them off your feet. Your hands curved over his shoulders, and you pushed yourself up, straddling him comfortably as the duvet rested against your back, creating a makeshift tent over him. He freed his own length, holding himself by the base of his cock as you positioned yourself above him.

There were no words needed as you placed your arms either side of his head for your support. Sex was not the answer to your problems, and you knew it. Yet right now, it was the most perfect display of love you could give.

You began to lower yourself with Minho’s guidance, his hand firm on your hip, his sleepy eyes locked to your needy sex.

A perfect, sensual stretch washed over you as you slid onto him, your walls accepting every inch of his girth until you warmed him comfortably. He closed his eyes, groaning quietly, biting on his lip at the sensation you offered. The sight made you mewl, and you quickly grabbed both his wrists, holding them beside his head.

You couldn’t punish him for what he’d done, you’d resigned yourself to that fact. Two wrongs never make a right.

But you could at least take this opportunity to remind him who was in charge.

With almost painful slowness, you began to ride him. Mustering every piece of strength in your thighs, you eased yourself upwards, slicking his length with your natural juices before you took him all the way back down again.

Gentle moans escaped you as you got yourself off on him, the knot in your core building with every delicious motion you made. Minho tensed, fighting the urge to buck up as he allowed you to use him. He knew what you needed, and what you were doing, all too well.

Your shallow breaths and his raspy grunts filled the small tent, the heat between you almost becoming too much as the bed sheets closed you in. His hands formed into tight fists under your hold, his eyes raking over your naked, writing form, taking in every bit of you as he allowed you to use him.

Alternating between grinding your clit over his base and sliding yourself along his cock, you quickly felt your high approaching. You took your time, allowing yourself to enjoy every blissful second you had him inside you, stretching you so perfectly. There was nothing that could get you to rush this, not the way he was looking up at you with dark admiration, or those drawn out, low exclamations of pleasure that told you he was keening for more.

“You’re killing me, angel-” He whined beneath you, rivulets of sweat forming on his caramel skin.

“Be g- good for me, baby…” You replied, releasing his wrists as you sat upright.

In the same motion, you threw the duvet off you, exposing the two of you to the cooler air of the room. The way it connected with your skin made you dizzy, a sense of relief from the borderline claustrophobic atmosphere of before.

Your pace increased as you threw your head back, your hands resting on his firm chest just enough to give you the support you needed. Lashings of heat rode through you as you moved, the stimulation he was giving you pushing you into an orgasm you just knew was going to be too intense.

His hands slid up your chest, his eyes darkening as he watched you with a deathly intensity and cupped your clammy breasts, massaging the soft skin for his own entertainment.

Never stopping your motions, you quickly slapped his hands away, glaring down at him as continuous rasps of pleasure escaped your lips.

And Minho’s willingness to be complacent all but snapped.

“Fuck this-”

A yelp of surprise emitted from you as he yanked you to his chest. Wrapping his arms around your whole body, you were utterly locked in place as he took back the control he’d relinquished, too needy to fight his desires. He had to set his own pace.

You clawed at his chest, head buried in his neck, unable to move your hips as he snapped upwards again and again, plunging his length into your deepest parts and chasing his release as you began to quiver with your own.

“F- fuck, _ugh_ … M- Minho, p- _please_ -”

Your words were shaky and broken, reverberating helplessly with the force he was pounding into you. His growls of lust came harder and more frequent in your ear, pornographic slaps of skin on skin filling the bedroom.

“C- Cum for me, angel… Cum all over me-”

A mewling, desperate whine flooded through you as your quivering descended into violent tremors, Minho’s assault endless as he fucked you through your orgasm. You were right when you thought it’d be intense. Every piece of stress and tension evaporated with the sheer pleasure he forced you to feel, every nerve in your body set alight by the way he was making you so weak.

“ _Ugh_ … yes, good girl, so good…”

Feeling your release tighten around him, Minho was coaxed into his own, your velvety walls wrapping his throbbing cock in the heaven that only you could give. His thrusts reduced to short, sharp ruts, his seed flooding you fast as he milked himself inside you.

Humming in content at the feeling, you lacked the strength to move from him as exhaustion and total bliss made your toes go numb.

He traced his fingertips over your clammy back, smothering the side of your face in affectionate kisses as he caught his own breath.

“Hey…” He eventually whispered, his tone staggered.

You turned your head to look at him, conscious but uncaring of the sweaty state you must be in right now.

“Does that count as makeup sex?”

You couldn’t help but break into a giggle at the stupidly innocent comment, burying your head into his neck as he chuckled along with you.

“Yeah, baby…” You smiled. “I guess it does.”

* * *

##### Shifting on your feet uncomfortably, you desperately tried to muster the courage you needed to knock on the door to Chan’s office.

Now of all times, it appeared to have gone on an extended holiday.

You’d weighed up the options, and there were a few things that could happen here. None of them particularly pleasant, and none of them undeserved given the little act of intrusion you’d carried out the night before.

He was going to fucking kill you, either way. You just prayed he’d let you stick around long enough to give him the news you knew he’d jump at, and that would hopefully sate him for a while.

Raising your hand for the fifth time, you held your breath as you rapped gently on the door.

“Come in.”

Your heart sank with the part of you that had naively hoped he wouldn’t be there, and you tentatively pushed open the door, stepping inside.

Just like always, he was clad in his usual attire of leather and faux fur, adorned with far too much jewellery than was really necessary, yet as tacky as his standard outfit of choice was, he always seemed to somehow pull it off.

“Hi…” You muttered, risking a glance in his direction.

“Well fuck me-” He laughed, gesturing for you to come in properly as he turned his attention from his new bookcase, which oddly enough, was entirely bereft of actual books. “It’s the worlds worst Pink Panther. Not here to rob me are you? You do realise you knocked this time?”

You sighed heavily, running your hands through your hair as you searched for the apology.

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck possessed you last night?” He stated, his question coming out as the grilling you knew you were in for. He plopped himself down in his desk chair, snakeskin boots thrown to the lavish oak desk, exuding nothing but power. And that only made you more nervous.

“Chan, I’m so sorry, I know I messed up. Big time. I never meant to-”

He held a hand up to you, narrowing his eyes as you sat down in the plush leather chair opposite his.

“You know I don’t care for excuses. And besides, that’s not what I asked.” He interrupted.

You nodded meekly, wringing your hands in your lap.

“I thought… I thought Minho was in there. In the play room. I lost it, I guess.”

Chan cocked his head at you, dragging his feet from the desk as he leaned over it in blatant intrigue.

“Why would you think that?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at the stupidity of your reasoning now that you were looking back on it.

“I saw the schedule on my desk. Someone had assigned him a client, and I… just assumed the worst.”

“But he did have a client,” Chan mused. “He took Felix’s. Didn’t he?”

_Shit._

Your mouth went dry at the realisation that Chan didn’t actually know Felix’s client had been sent away and refunded. After the performance he’d put on and the way he’d lost it at the mere suggestion of doing that when it had been given, you wanted to kick yourself for letting it slip. This was supposed to have been handled without him ever knowing.

“Y/N?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Did he, or did he not, take Felix’s client?”

“No… She was refunded.”

Chan closed his eyes, his hands at his temples as he rubbed small circles on the skin. The veins in his neck popped, the tension building inside him threatening to burst at any second.

“Whose idea was that?”

“I… I don’t know, but Chan, I have something to-”

“Don’t fucking brush this off!” He shouted, his fist connecting with the desk in a rage. “How many times do I have to put up with the blatant disrespect of every goddamn person in this club?! Am I not the fucking owner?! Is this not my business?!”

You stood from your seat, rushing to his side in an effort to calm him as the lid popped on his patience.

“Chan, please just be reasonable! You asked a married man to fuck another woman, what did you think was going to happen? You know that’s not the deal we made when Minho agreed to stay!”

His face seemed to marginally relax as he heard your words, your appealing tone clearly drumming a sliver of sense into him. You took it as your opportunity to mould him down, perhaps get him on side.

“It wasn’t fair, Chan. You know that. If the profits mean that much to you, take them out of my wages. Money means far less to me than the future of my marriage.”

Chan sighed, swatting your arm away begrudgingly as you tried to reassure him. He knew you were right. He knew he was being precocious, and had asked for too much.

“No need for that,” he eventually replied, regaining his composure. “I suppose he did dance, and he was always the best among us at that. Let’s just… drop the whole fucking thing.”

You nodded in eager agreement, wanting nothing more than to move on from the sordid affair.

“So, you had something to tell me?” He muttered.

“Right,” you smiled, doing your best not to force it. “I ran into someone, and he’s coming to see you today. I know you’ll be happy to see him.”

Chan shrugged, gesturing for you to continue.

“Well, uh, Hyunjin’s back in town. And he wants his job back.”

As expected, a smile of sheer delight crossed Chan’s lips almost instantly. He was nothing if not predictable. He leaned over the desk, gawping at you in disbelief.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“No,” you shook your head, pleased that he seemed to be perking up. “He was actually here, late yesterday. I told him to come back to talk to you about being reinstated. But he wants it, for sure.”

He stood from his seat, holding his arms to the air in exclamation of praise for a higher being.

“Halle-fucking-lujah!” He shouted, his blatant excitement shining through.

“Thought you’d like that.” You laughed, turning to leave.

“When is he getting here?”

You shrugged, remembering that you hadn’t actually given him a time.

“I’m not sure. But I doubt he’ll want to hang around. He seemed eager to get back to work.”

Chan nodded, rubbing his hands together in glee as he practically bounced off the walls.

You opened the door, stepping outside and smiling to yourself as you left Chan to his own devices, closing out the giddy sounds of how much money he was going to make with that ‘little fucking earner’ as you shut the door behind you.

A sense of relief became you as things seemed to be coming together, for the most part.

You’d smoothed things over with Chan. Resolved your worries about Minho, putting them to bed as best you could. And now you’d done your bit for Hyunjin.

Perhaps now, you could look towards just enjoying your life as it was.

Perhaps.

* * *

##### “Don’t make a goddamn face at me, just eat it!” You whined, prodding Minho in the bicep.

He pouted at you with that little expression that normally would have made you cave instantly, but today, you were determined not to. Just like you were every day, until you inevitably did.

“Minho, I swear to God. What did I ask you this morning?” You sighed, throwing your cheese and ham sandwich down to the plastic tub you’d packed them in.

He rolled his eyes, sinking back into the office chair he’d pulled up next to yours so you could eat lunch together. Eating in your office was a fairly unusual thing, but you’d both wanted to be alone for a bit. Call it a reconciliation high, but you were admittedly enjoying it. That, and the staff room was boisterous at the best of times, with food adding nothing but chaos to the mix.

“What did I ask?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You asked me what I wanted for lunch.” He replied.

You nodded, cocking your head at him.

“And what did you say?”

He scrunched his eyes closed in apprehension, his nose curling as he did so. Adorable.

“I said…”

“You said…?”

“Nope. Don’t remember.”

You broke out into disbelieving laughter, playfully swatting his arm as he winked at you.

“You said you’d eat anything! So I did anything!” You stated, picking up your sandwich.

“But I don’t want cheese and ham.” He moaned, pouting once again as he poked at the bread.

You shot him a glare, daring him to complain again.

“Then starve. See if I care.”

It was his turn to feign mock offence as you took another bite of your lunch, causing you to giggle around your food.

“You wouldn’t let me starve. You love me too much.” He grinned, seeming pleased with his own reasoning as he picked up the sandwich in front of him.

“Do I?” You asked, giving him a look of sarcastic knowing.

“Don’t you?”

Your eyes locked over your respective pieces of bread, a moment of lingering silence sinking in.

And it was almost impossible for either of you to take anything seriously for much longer. You couldn’t help the onslaught of hopeless giggles and exclamations of teasing that followed.

He had a way of bringing this side of you out, the giddy schoolgirl that picked on her crush when the two of you were alone together. It was nice, and almost painfully wholesome. Which was a welcome change to the tensity your relationship had held lately.

A gentle knock on your office door acted as a mild interruption, and a nervous looking Jeongin popped his head around the door as you called for whoever it was to enter.

“Hey… Sorry to interrupt. Chan needs you both. In the staff room.” He informed, his tone unstable at best.

“Ugh, right now? He needs us this second?” Minho huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah… Sorry.”

Giving you an apologetic look, he left the door ajar as he turned back down the corridor, reinforcing that you really were needed, right this moment.

You shrugged, standing from your seat as you gestured for your husband to follow.

“Let’s just get it over with, I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t sort in a few minutes. You know how he gets.” You laughed, dragging Minho’s arm to shift him from the seat.

Drawn out whinges of protest followed as Minho gradually moved, following you out of the office and down the hallway, grumbling behind you all the while.

“He’s probably being a diva again. Bet it’s something to do with the new brand of rubbers we got or something, he’s so fucking trivial I swear-”

Minho’s sentence trailed off as he stepped into the staff room, his eyes resting on the familiar broad back of a man he’d hoped to never run into again. And seated across from him at the table, a beaming, utterly ecstatic Chan.

“Guys!” He exclaimed, jumping to his feet at your entrance. “Come in! Thought you should know that this sly old dog has finalised his contract. He’s starting tonight!”

_Contract? Starting?_

A hard lump formed in Minho’s throat, his mouth running dry as Hyunjin turned around, a smug smirk plastered to his lips as he offered a subtle bow.

He hadn’t appeared to have changed particularly since he’d left. His hair was perhaps slightly longer, maybe he’d lost a bit of weight…? But other than that, his outward appearance remained much the same.

Minho noted, however, what _was_ different. That leering expression. The blatant look in his eyes that positively dripped with undeserving wanting as they raked over his wife from head to toe. And he almost definitely wanted Minho to see.

Of course you’d noticed the way Minho had tensed the second he’d walked into the room. But there was little you could about it right now. You just hoped he’d be civil enough to maintain at least a facade of politeness until the two of you were alone again so you could talk him down.

“Congrats.” You smiled, offering your hand to Hyunjin in a formal, purely platonic handshake.

Minho watched as the only other man who’d fucked his wife took her hand, his senses heightening tenfold as he wrapped his fingers easily around her, lingering for just that second too long before she withdrew it, clearly uncomfortable.

“Isn’t this great?!” Chan exclaimed, practically bouncing off his seat with joy. “We’re back to a full team again! Just like the good old days!”

“No-” You interrupted, whipping your head around to him. “It’s not like the good old days. Minho doesn’t… do that anymore.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement, cocking his head in sympathy at Minho, offering silent condolences.

“Well that can’t be helped,” he crooned, pursing his lips. “Some people do go past their prime earlier than others.”

Minho scoffed under his breath, approaching you and circling his arms around your waist from behind.

You knew exactly what he was doing as he held you close to him, swaying you gently, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he looked straight down at Hyunjin.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Minho purred, pressing a soft kiss to your neck that made you shudder involuntarily, much to Hyunjin’s displeasure. “The trade off was worth it.”

Chan cleared his throat, obviously sensing the tension in the air and the stand off that was happening before his eyes.

“Okay, enough of the pissing contest.” He sighed, tapping his fingers on the table as he stood from his seat. “Hyunjin, get your gear, get changed, make sure you’re ready for tonight. You won’t have any clients booked yet, but there’s no reason you can’t jump in on the performance. Anything you need, you let Y/N know. Okay?”

“No problem.” Hyunjin replied, his tone stiff with the blatant display of married life he’d just been subjected to. Chan left the room with a spring in his step, and coincidentally, took all the happy air in the room with him.

Because the moment he left, the tension was almost crushing. Hyunjin swept his hands through his hair, sighing heavily as he stood up. His eyes connected with yours, drifting down your form to Minho’s arms around your waist.

He formed into a small smile, almost one of sadness, and for some reason you couldn’t quite identify, you were once again instilled with that helpless sense of dread, your heart rate catching speed.

He cocked his head at you, looking at you as though Minho wasn’t even there.

“It’s nice to see you again, by the way. And so soon too…?” He murmured, his tongue flicking tenderly across his bottom lip. “Next time, you should really just stay the night.”

And that was all it took.

A simple, innocent little observation that was laced with the most nonchalant underlying threat you’d ever heard. It was all that was needed for Minho’s arms to drop from your body.

You gawped at Hyunjin as he casually left the room, the most subtle of sadistic grins playing at the corners of his mouth.

You were right. He had changed.

Turning to face Minho, the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Rage. Resentment. Betrayal. Humiliation. He was feeling all of it, and more.

You reached out to touch him, an act of appeal to allow him to let you explain. All you needed was one chance.

But he promptly backed out of your reach, a wordless gesture that told you to stay away. For the first time, he denied you the ability to touch him. He didn’t _want_ it.

The naive hopes you’d had earlier in the day of being able to enjoy your life as it was were slipping away by the second.

Minho shook his head in quiet denial, his eyes darkening as he eventually met your gaze.

“I always thought I’d be the one to fuck up this marriage eventually.” He muttered, his tone unlike anything you’d ever heard him use before.

Your heart was thudding with inexplicable panic, a pit of desperation forming as you dreaded the next words out of his mouth.

“Minho, please, I can expl-”

“Save it,” he muttered, his expression entirely unfamiliar. “You’ve just proven me wrong. I’m done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
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	5. Chapter 5

##### “Save it. You’ve just proven me wrong. I’m done.”

Time seemed to still around you as the very clear, real threat behind his words sunk in.

“Done with what?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

His eyes had visibly darkened, the tension in the room only adding to the atmosphere that Hyunjin had left in his wake. A ticking time bomb of unspoken frustrations that was just begging to explode.

“What do you think?!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. “I’m done with this marriage. With you. With this whole fucking thing.”

You shook your head in quiet denial, aghast at how he hadn’t even given you a chance to explain things. 

“Minho, just give me a fucking second, he made that sound way worse than it really is!”

“But he wasn’t lying, was he? That wasn’t the first time you’d seen him? You went to his place?”

You swallowed, knowing that you were about to be caught in a lie, in a situation that you simply hadn’t anticipated. You couldn’t help but feel like a fly trapped in a web. You knew nothing of note had happened at Hyunjin’s, yet your presence there at all would be enough to destroy any lingering fragments of trust Minho had in you.

“N- No, he wasn’t lying, but I-”

“So you did go to his place?”

Minho was accusatory, his expression rife with betrayal.

“I did go to his place, b- but it was just to talk about his job, and I… I needed to talk to someone outside of the club, Minho. I know it was fucking stupid, but nothing happened, I swear to god.”

“Was it that night?” He snarled, taking a step closer to you.

You knew immediately what he was referring to. The night he’d kissed someone else. The night you’d been thrown into disarray and were in desperate need of a friend. Call it the heat of the moment or a simple lapse in your rationality, but the mere thought of his mild adultery had you seething all over again, despite the fact you’d resigned yourself to forgiveness.

“Yes. It was that night. For some reason I wasn’t thinking straight.” You snapped, returning the glare he was giving you as you reminded him of his indiscretion.

He rolled his eyes, biting on his lip in annoyance.

“Don’t fucking start with me, Y/N. You’re in no position to get shitty with me right now.”

“I’m in no position?!” You yelled in exasperation. “You’re hilarious. If you hadn’t done what you did, I never would have gone to see him in the first place. I would have gone home, with you, just like I was fucking supposed to!”

“Oh, so this is my fault?!” He shouted, now stood less than a foot away from you. “I make a single mistake and that’s all it takes for you to go and fuck someone else? And _him,_ of all people?!”

You swept your hands through your hair, holding them there as you tried to control your rising temper.

“Minho, you’re not listening to me! I just told you, nothing happened! Do you honestly think I’d do that to you?!”

He scoffed under his breath, clearly nowhere near satisfied with your excuses.

“You don’t believe me?” You asked.

“Give me a single reason why I should.”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m your fucking wife?!”

He threw his arms in the air once more, shrugging his shoulders as he did so.

“And?” He snarled. “I’m your husband, but that still doesn’t seem to stop you doing what you want!”

You shook your head in exhaustion, turning away from him as you all but gave up on this argument. He wasn’t listening, as was typical of him when he got like this. Nothing you could say right now would bring him down, and you knew he needed space. At least until he’d cooled off enough to function properly.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He hissed, eyes burning into your back as you walked away.

“We’ll talk about this later. You’re in no space to do this right now.” You muttered over your shoulder.

“Sure. Leave. Why not go to him? Maybe he’ll get the spreader bar out for you like old times, huh? Cuff you up again?”

_What?_

You stopped in your tracks, every thought in your head going silent. Utter blankness took over, sparks of panic fleeting through you at what he’d just said.

It wasn’t the fact that he’d assumed you’d go to Hyunjin that did that to you. It wasn’t the cruel permission he’d granted for you to cheat on him, or the sickeningly sarcastic string it came out as.

It was the unintentional confession. The slip up he’d blurted out in his rage and desire to belittle you. The implication that he knew things he couldn’t have known. 

That he’d known all along exactly what happened between you and Hyunjin that first night you’d spent at Seventh Heaven.

Your heart began to thud with fright as you turned back, seeing him sat on the chair. His head hung low in his hands, his shoulders tense. It only served to confirm your fears. He knew he’d made a mistake.

“What… did you just say?”

Minho rubbed at his temples, eyes closed tightly.

Hysteria rose in your chest, a thousand things swimming through your head. You all but ran over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him back so he was forced to look at you.

“What did you just _fucking_ say?!” You shouted, your eyes wild.

He shook his head as he opened his eyes, filled with regret and the remnants of his anger towards you as he refused to acknowledge your question.

You shook him harder still, tears stinging at your eyes.

“How do you know about that Minho?!”

“I…”

He hesitated, not able to bring himself to say it.

You racked your brains, knowing that he wouldn’t give you an answer like this. He wouldn’t come clean.

That night… Minho had been with his own clients. The two girls. He couldn’t have been in the play room with you and Hyunjin. So how…?

And then the bulb flicked on. The unwanted revelation that hit you like a truck, knocking everything you knew into a mess of distrust. That same fear you’d felt earlier seeped through your body, sending you to quiet tremors.

“The CCTV…”

The look of defeat on his face told you that you’d hit the nail on the head as you dropped your hands from his shoulders.

The _fucking_ CCTV. It had been one of the first things you’d got rid of when you’d started working at the club, convincing Chan that the security cameras trod a dangerously thin line between protection and unethical practice. In truth, you’d imagined yourself being exposed through the cameras. How horrendous you would have felt if someone had found your footage, how much of a breach of privacy it would be if someone were to watch what was, essentially, your unsolicited sex tape with Hyunjin.

Yet little did you know, the whole time, someone had already breached that privacy.

The one man you’d never wanted to see it. The one person you thought would never even try. _Should_ have never tried.

“Why?” You whispered, unable to process anything as the long buried secret seemed to sap every piece of energy from you.

“I just… I had to know, Y/N. I… I couldn’t handle it. You and Hyunjin, that never should have happened. It was a fucking mistake-”

“And that gives you the right to watch me?!” You shrieked with a newfound rush of adrenaline, tears escaping from the corners of your eyes.

“I have every fucking right. I’m your goddamn husband.” He hissed through locked teeth.

You released a gasp of pure exasperation, not in the least bit surprised at how he was once again shirking responsibility for this.

“But you weren’t back then!” You cried, swiping tears of anger from your flushed cheeks. “You were nothing! How dare you do this to me!”

He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he caught those little words.

“I was nothing?”

Once again, his selective hearing took precedence. He was dismissing the _real_ issue, diverting attention to a passing upset. You rolled your eyes, emitting a cry of utter frustration as your patience wore paper thin.

“ _Ugh_ , my god, _why_ are you doing this?! You know I didn’t mean it like that! Why do you only hear what you want to hear? Don’t you understand how wrong this is?! You fucking _spied_ on me! That’s… v- voyeurism! Stalking! It’s fucked up Minho!”

He stood from his seat, side stepping around you without a second glance.

“Minho! We’re not done here!” You called after him, your vision blurry as your watering eyes only worsened.

“I’m not the only one who hears what I want to hear, Y/N. I told you already. I’m done.”

The strength in your knees evaporated as your husband left the room, his broad back being the last thing you saw of him while the walls closed in around you.

You struggled to breathe as you stumbled back to the chair he’d been sat on. Clutching a hand to your chest, you doubled over, allowing your tears to dampen the marble floor of the staff room. The lights that surrounded the vanity mirrors seemed too bright, burning your eyes. The room felt too warm, humidity crawling under your skin.

Your marriage was, for all intents and purposes, over.

There would never be any trust between you again. There’d been too many mistakes. Too many lies and acts of deceit. You’d rushed into things, and all the doubts and second guesses were rearing their ugly head as they manifested right in front of your eyes.

There was surely no coming back from this.

* * *

##### You hadn’t been able to concentrate the whole day.

To say you’d been zoned out was an understatement. Your eyes felt heavy, your throat too dry. A near constant pit in your stomach had drained all the colour from your face, and the last thing you wanted to do was even attempt to eat something.

All you really wanted to do, was sleep. Exhaustion had claimed you as its’ own, mentally and physically.

For the tenth time, you tried desperately to focus on the spreadsheet in front of you as you reviewed the answers the newest batch of deluxe package clients had given. Standard procedure dictated that any client wanting to purchase the deluxe package, which was essentially a night with one of the boys, was subject to a hybrid interview of probing personal questions when they booked it.

The insanity that you were now the one who reviewed these answers that Gina had been the one to tell you about over a wild night of cocktails, wasn’t lost on you.

You squinted at the computer screen, scanning down the list.

The small black words on the bright white monitor began to blur, creating a mess of font that your current state of mind simply couldn’t decipher.

Sighing in defeat, you sat back in your chair, closing your eyes for a brief moment of respite as the aching in your neck eased just a little. You’d had a splitting headache since your argument with him, and you also hadn’t seen him since.

Not that you wanted to.

A gentle knocking on your door caused you to sit upright, and the subsequent pounding in your head made you wince.

“Come in.”

The door opened a crack, the face of a person you didn’t particularly want to see emerging from behind it.

“What do you want?” You asked, your tone deadpan.

Hyunjin entered, a gentle smile on his face as he closed the door behind him and cautiously sat in the plush chair opposite your desk.

“Just checking in.” He replied, gaze locked to your face.

You rolled your eyes at him, shooting a blatant glare of displeasure.

“You don’t need to check in. So unless there’s something you actually need, please leave.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/N, I’m just-”

“Don’t be like what?” You hissed, the little patience you had remaining for the men of this cursed club quickly dissipating. “Do you have any idea the damage you’ve caused thanks to that little fucking display earlier?”

He cocked his head, pursing his lips in feigned innocence.

“Damage? Why would that have caused damage?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if he was genuinely dense or simply feigning ignorance. It was getting harder to tell.

“You don’t think what you said was inappropriate?”

“I don’t. All I said was that you should have stayed the night with me. It was late, I was only thinking about your safety.”

“Right,” you scoffed, turning your attention back to your computer. “And you just neglected to mention that part when my husband was around.”

You weren’t sure why, but the tensity that crossed Hyunjin’s face as you said the word ‘husband’ was painfully noticeable.

He sat forwards in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with something that could only be described as morbid curiosity.

“Did you argue?” He asked.

You furrowed your brow, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Yes. We argued. What did you think would happen?”

“Did he end things?”

“What?” You snapped, whipping your head around to look at him. “Why would you even ask that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, settling back into his seat, playing off the macabre question as nothing more than something a concerned friend would ask. But you knew it wasn’t, and you wanted him gone.

“Hyunjin, I’d prefer to be alone, and I’ve got work to do, so if you could just-”

“Come to my place tonight.” He interrupted, inspecting his nails as he made the proposition with utter complacency.

“I’m sorry, are you criminally insane?” You half-laughed, wondering where his seemingly endless confidence came from. “That’s exactly what got me into this mess in the first place. And you’ll forgive me if I don’t entirely trust you right now. You can forget it.”

He sighed under his breath, retrieving something from his pocket. He placed it firmly on your desk, sliding it over the polished wood towards you with two fingers. It looked too big to be a business card, yet too small to be anything of major note.

“What is that?”

He gestured for you to pick it up, settling back into the seat and crossing his legs elegantly.

“I’m having a party tonight. To celebrate my return, among other things. I want you to come.”

Pursing your lips, you picked up the laminated card, turning it over in your fingers. It was a crimson red in colour, as was the signature of Seventh Heaven, and imprinted in bold white letters with Hyunjin’s address, today’s date, and a time of 21:00 on one side. On the other side, was a mobile number. His number, you assumed.

“So this is…?” You asked tentatively.

“An invitation, if you like.” He replied, standing casually from the chair. “I’ve been handing them out. So you’ll be there, right?”

You shook your head, slipping the card back down to the desk.

“No. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Sorry.”

“Look,” he sighed, clearly annoyed with your refusal. “We won’t be alone, if that’s what you’re worried about. The other guys will be there. Chan too. He’s even closing the club for this. It’s just a small gathering, a few drinks, nothing extravagant. It’ll be good for you.”

“Hyunjin, I said no. Drop it.”

He released a deep huff, wandering over to your side of the desk. He put his hands on the back of your chair, leaning over it until his lips were flush with your ear.

“Just come along. Please. I promise… you won’t regret it.”

Something about the way his unwanted promise fell on your ears, coupled with the warm sensation of his honey like breath on your skin made you shiver. He took his leave, flashing you a small smile as the door to your office closed behind you, leaving you once again in solitary turmoil.

You swept your hands through your hair, throwing down the pen you’d been grasping too tightly between your fingers for the last few minutes of that encounter. Leaning back in the chair, you groaned internally as the throbbing in your head only got worse.

Admittedly… and if you were telling the truth? A party didn’t actually sound like the worst thing in the world.

After the day you’d had, you’d planned to simply drown yourself in wine and obscene amounts of ice cream until the pain went away. But it seemed another avenue of steam blowing had presented itself, with almost comically convenient timing.

You wouldn’t be alone with him. That was the only reason you were even considering this. It was the selling point. The other boys were nothing if not known for their animalistic partying tendencies and know-how on what makes a good time.

Picking up the small crimson card, you flicked one end of it with your index finger, biting quietly on your lip as the possibilities of what tonight could bring solidified within you.

Fuck it.

It’s not like you had anything more to lose anyway.

* * *

##### You’d arrived home at least an hour before the party was due to kick off, with Chan basically kicking all staff out of the club, sending them home to close up shop so he could get ready himself.

You’d wondered why he’d seemed to be bouncing off the walls all day, and it now made perfect sense. He’d always been a sucker for parties that he didn’t have to host himself.

Entering your home through the front door, you weren’t surprised to find it completely dark. Quiet. Devoid of life.

Minho usually got home later than you did anyway, but tonight, you knew that wasn’t because of work. There were a thousand different places he could be right now, none of which you had a clue about. Minho knew this city better than anyone. The downtown district had been his stomping ground, back when he was still entertaining, and if you even knew him at all, you were sure he’d be reclaiming that territory right about now. Drinking, dancing, whatever it took to distract himself from the mess that was his life.

And the worst part about the whole thing, was that you weren’t even worried about it.

For once, you weren’t stressing out. You didn’t have the overwhelming, burning desire to call or text him, find out where he was or what he was doing.

You simply didn’t want to know. Whether it was instinct or your sense of self preservation kicking in, you couldn’t be sure. But you just wanted to forget, even if only for a short amount of time.

Kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag to the dining table, you made a beeline for the bedroom, your bare feet padding over the soft, beige carpet that lined your floors.

For a moment, you wondered what you should wear as you yanked open the wardrobe doors, scanning your clothes for an outfit. You then promptly remembered that, actually, you really didn’t need to dress to impress tonight. Who were you supposed to be impressing? You were only going to indulge in your vices and numb the aching in your heart for a while.

When the sudden clicking of the front door resounded through the house, causing your heart to skip an irreverent beat as the sound of his footsteps crossed the living room.

You’d hoped to avoid this. You thought he’d gone out. You almost wished he had.

The bedroom door opened, a dishevelled looking Minho appearing from behind it as he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you. His steely tresses were swept back over his forehead, the bags under his eyes more prominent than the last time you’d seen him, which really, had only been a few hours ago.

“Oh… I didn’t think you’d be home.” He mumbled, dragging his eyes away from you.

“I’m not staying long,” you replied, the dull ache in your head threatening to immobilise you with the weakening his presence had on you.

“Okay.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, slinking it off his shoulders as he grabbed a towel from the cupboard and left, presumably for the bathroom.

You steadied your breathing the moment he left the room, finding even more pain in the way he’d just simply acknowledged that you weren’t sticking around.

He hadn’t asked. Hadn’t cared to know if you were going somewhere, or even if you were leaving him for good.

Somehow, that was all the confirmation you needed.

You really were through.

* * *

##### Second guessing yourself seemed to have become something of an embedded habit, one that you’d developed over the last few weeks and days.

Because despite the way you’d managed to convince yourself that going to this party was a good idea, you were rapidly beginning to dread it.

Yet, your head and your heart had vastly differing opinions.

_It’s not too late Y/N. Turn around. Go home. Open that wine, and spend the night alone. Just like you’d planned to._

_Knock on the door. Coward. What are you afraid of? You don’t owe him anything. He’s probably out right now anyway, looking for the nearest pair of tits to ogle over._

You shook your head, silencing the clamouring voices as you rapped firmly on the door. The faint sounds of laughter, electronic dance music and other raucous activities could be heard from behind it, and you wondered if just the guys from Seventh Heaven would be capable of making that much noise.

Barely a minute passed before the door was swung open, a wide eyed Felix greeting you with a beaming smile on his face.

“Y/N! Come in!”

You couldn’t help but feel lighter at his demeanour. He was always so infectious. You stepped inside the apartment that was positively bustling with people, most of which you didn’t recognise. So much for a quiet gathering.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a small party?” You muttered, your eyes darting to every corner of the room as you absorbed the scene. You’d arrived only slightly later than the starting time, but by the looks of things, this party was already in full swing.

Felix giggled, flashing you a sly wink as he let you inside.

“You know Hyunjin,” he beamed, closing the door behind you. “Never one for _subtle._ ”

You shrugged off your coat, and Felix quickly took it from you, sliding open the door to the unusually large cloak cupboard and hanging it up inside.

“You want a drink?” He asked, tugging on your arm to get you to follow him.

“Sure. Something strong.”

Navigating your way through the crowds of people, Felix led you through to the sleek kitchen, and you watched as he grabbed a bottle of nameless liquor from among the numerous spirits and wines that had been placed there.

“Is everyone from the club here then?” You asked him, forced to raise your voice over the increasing volume of the music.

“Yeah, we were the first ones here! Before we knew it all these other people started showing up, then it _really_ turned into a party.”

You nodded in understanding, taking the drink from Felix as you absently brought it to your lips. A single sip was all it took for you to wince as the liquor flooded your throat, proving to be just that bit stronger than you’d actually wanted.

“Jesus, vodka?!”

“It’s a party, princess.” He winked, pouring himself a glass of the clear liquid.

“Hey, how’s the leg, by the way? It’s not giving you attitude is it?” You asked, glancing down to his ankle.

He shook his head abruptly, a gesture intended to remove your worries.

“It’s absolutely fine. No need to worry. It’ll take more than a little fall to knock me out of action.”

Feeling a modicum of relief at the fact that he seemed to be better, you looked around the room once again, noticing how groups of people had formed into cliques or couples. Some dancing, some talking, and others just drinking, blatantly caught up in their own little atmospheres that would no doubt lead to something far more intimate later.

And right amongst the throng of people, immersed in his own world of erotic dancing and substantial amounts of alcohol, was your boss. A girl hanging off each arm, a baseball cap you recognised to be his adorning one of their heads. You wondered if he’d even recognise you if you waved at him right now, but at least he seemed to be having fun.

“Come on, the others are in the next room.” Felix nudged, gesturing for you to follow.

You held your drink close to your chest, navigating through the throngs of people as Felix led you through living room, back towards the rear end of the apartment. Through an ornate set of double doors, you stepped into a smaller drawing room, lined with expensive shelves of liquors and lavish ornaments. Black and silver adorned the walls, metal and soft furs seeming to be the main theme of decor.

“Y/N! You’re here!”

A familiar voice piped up from the middle of the room, and you turned to see Jisung and the other boys sat around a sleek glass table. Black leather armchairs and a two seater sofa surrounded the table, which was placed on a soft looking black rug and laden with various bottles of alcohol and empty glasses.

“Hey guys,” you smiled, offering a small wave as you followed Felix over to them.

“About time you showed up.” Hyunjin commented from his position on the single armchair, legs crossed as he reclined lazily into it, a short crystal glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Nice to see you too.” You replied starkly, settling into the snug space between Changbin and Seungmin.

“Okay, so now she’s here, why don’t we start the game?” Jisung asked, looking around the room as he sat cross legged on the floor.

“Game?”

Jisung nodded, grabbing one of the empty bottles from the table and turning it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow slyly as he placed it in the middle of the floor.

“Spin the bottle? Really? How old are we again?” Seungmin sighed, rolling his eyes at the suggestion.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! Besides, this is truth or dare. Way more scandalous.” Jisung quipped, shooting a glare in his direction.

You cocked your head, shrugging off your jacket as the warmth of the liquor began to subtly take effect.

“Uh, I don’t think playing this is a good idea…” You mused, well aware of what 'truth or dare’ usually entailed thanks to your hormone fuelled college days.

“Let’s play,” Hyunjin interrupted, slinking from his seat as he stood up. “Just give me a second?”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant veto of your opinion, finishing your own vodka as Hyunjin disappeared from the room.

“Uh, hey…” Changbin nudged from next to you, giving you a small smile. “Is Minho coming? You guys are okay, right?”

The mere mention of his name made your heart hurt, the whole idea of being here without him seeming even more ridiculous considering he was the only reason you even knew them at all. Your expression must have said that, with the way Changbin’s face dropped.

“Well… whatever it is, I know you’ll get through it. You two are like… the centre of the club, you know?”

You were about to reply, to reassure him that things would be fine despite not even believing it yourself, when Hyunjin reentered the room.

Yet he wasn’t alone.

Two girls hung off each shoulder, tall, lean, and perfectly pristine in their snug, short dresses and towering platform heels. One let her silky black locks fall loose, coming almost to her waist before they ended. The other had shorter, auburn toned hair, but she was no less attractive than the other.

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you expected from the boys, but they didn’t seem to be entirely averse to the newcomers as Hyunjin showed them inside.

“Guys, this is Davina,” he smiled politely, gesturing to the bobbed girl. “And this is Ava. They’ll be joining us tonight.”

You rolled your eyes internally as they settled themselves either side of you on the sofa, Changbin and Seungmin moving for them to sit, much to their giddy delight. The overwhelming scent of their too-strong perfume threatened to knock you out, and you actively had to stop yourself from pinching your nose.

“What are we playing?” The dark haired girl, apparently called Ava, asked as she essentially eye fucked Changbin from across the table.

“Truth or dare,” Jisung replied, fingers atop the empty bottle in readiness. “I’ll go first!”

“Wait!” You interjected, stopping him before he could spin. “Isn’t Chan playing?”

Jisung shook his head, waving off the suggestion without even a second thought as he finally took hold of the bottle, eager to get started.

With a deft flick of his fingertips, he spun it around, drawing every person’s attention as all eyes were fixed to the fateful glass.

The spinning slowed, coming to a gradual stop, pointing directly at Jeongin. Who, by coincidence, had been uncharacteristically quiet until now.

He clapped excitedly, looking at Jisung for the all important ultimatum.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare!” Jeongin beamed.

Jisung pursed his lips, thinking for a few seconds before he smiled wickedly.

“I dare you… to go out to the main room and tell the first person you see that you’ll fuck them three ways from Sunday if they give you their wallet.”

Sniggers and laughter broke out from around the room, nobody believing for a second that Jeongin would be able to pull this off.

“Ji, I don’t think that’s-”

You were silenced by a prompt hand being held up to your face and a glare from Jisung. The younger smirked, licking his bottom lip as he downed the rest of his drink and stood from the floor, rearranging his jacket around him.

“I’ll be back in five.”

True to his word, he left the room. And less than five minutes later, he returned, seemingly empty handed.

“Well?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow as he checked over the boy.

Jeongin smiled brazenly, retrieving a bound leather wallet from his pocket and throwing it to the table nonchalantly. The other boys, including you, gawped at him in amazement.

“How the fuck did you manage that?” Seungmin laughed, still in disbelief.

“I got my ways. You could learn a thing or two if you actually paid attention.” He replied, sweeping his hand through his hair as he returned to his position on the floor.

“Unbelievable.” Jisung scoffed, sliding the bottle to Jeongin.

“Yeah, well, at least I’ve got plans for later now.” He remarked, shooting a confident glare at Jisung from across the table as he spun the bottle around with two long fingers.

All eyes were back on the table, watching as the bottle spun with flare, before gradually stopping. Right in front of Davina.

She giggled helplessly, eyes fluttering as she cocked her head at Jeongin.

“Truth or dare, honey?” He asked.

“Dare!” She replied, one finger twirling a loose strand of her bob around.

“Okay… I dare you to let Changbin taste those pretty lips.”

Another coy laugh erupted from her as she glanced over at Changbin, who admittedly, looked disappointed. You couldn’t help but notice how Ava’s face seemed to have dropped too, having quite clearly had her eye on him the minute she walked in the room.

She stood from the sofa, sauntering over to Changbin and taking his hands as she helped him off the floor.

And as if there was no one else in the room, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Changbin laced a hand around the back of her neck, his fingers gracing her chin as he tilted her head up.

Without any hesitation, he pressed his lips to hers, pulling her waist flush to his large frame as he kissed her with an almost feral passion. Your cheeks burnt at the sight, so you tore your eyes away as you instead opted to refill your glass with something that _looked_ like vodka. You couldn’t be sure anymore.

Seeming satisfied, Changbin pulled away, leaving Davina utterly breathless and flushed.

You fought the urge to comment on how most people had to pay for that privilege. She was just about the luckiest girl in town.

“I- is it m- my turn?” She stammered as she sat back down next to you, her eyes now glassy.

A smug smirk crossed Changbin’s lips, and he went straight back to undressing Ava with his eyes, as if he hadn’t just made out with her friend right in front of her face. You could have used a smidgen of that confidence right now.

“Yeah, you spin.” Jisung replied.

She nodded in understanding, taking hold of the bottle with a shaky grip as she tried her best to spin it around. However, it utterly failed, meaning that it all but stuttered to her left and landed firmly, on you.

“Oh come on, that can’t count, it didn’t even spin!” You protested, looking around the room.

“It counts! No arguing!” Jisung quipped, shutting down your attempts to get out of it.

You huffed under your breath, sinking back into the sofa with a very deliberate pout to signify your displeasure.

“Fine. Truth, then.”

Davina looked at you, pursing her lips for a moment in thought as you gradually realised that, actually, this could work in your favour. She didn’t know you. At all. Didn’t know the things you’d done or any of the potentially painful unspoken truths that lurked under the surface of your relationships.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Uh… well…” She mused, clearly trying to think of something she could ask.

“I’ve got one.”

Your heart sank as Hyunjin’s voice crooned from across the room, interrupting wherever the girls’ thoughts were going. His eyes locked to your form as he absently finished the amber liquid in his glass.

“Keep it to yourself. Davina has to ask, not you.” You shot at him, narrowing your eyes daringly as you took another sip of your vodka.

He smirked in response, leaning forward in his seat.

“My party, my rules, kitten. I’ll take this one, D.”

The mention of the taboo pet name made your blood run cold, in stark contrast to the way it’d made you feel before. Because things were different now. _He_ was different.

All eyes turned to Hyunjin, everyone in the room anticipating what he could _possibly_ want to know. Though you had some idea.

Your head was running a hundred thoughts a second, your heart drumming helplessly. You could get up and leave. You could shut him down, tell him to stop. You could walk away from this whole thing, refuse to play the stupid game.

Yet you didn’t.

You simply met his testing stare, refusing to show even the slightest sign of worry, despite how you were churning inside.

“So ask then.” You taunted, crossing your arms over your chest.

He swept a hand through his silky locks, sliding to the edge of his seat as he held your gaze.

“I want to know…” He murmured, taking his plump bottom lip between his teeth for just a moment before he continued. “Who was better?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion as the question went straight over your head.

“Sorry?” You asked, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Who… was better?” He repeated, his eyes piercing. “I’ve fucked you. Minho’s fucked you. And still does, I should hope. I want to know who satisfied you more. Me, or him?”

You scoffed under your breath, deciding to let the snarky comment about your married sex life slip as you shook your head in dismissal.

“Do you really need an answer to that? I would have thought it was obvious.”

“Not really.” He replied, his expression stern. “I seem to recall you were more than compliant during our night together.”

“Hyunjin, open your eyes. Which one did I marry?”

A small exclamation of sympathy escaped Changbin as your borderline insult filled the room.

“Yeah, you married _him_. So what? That doesn’t mean the sex is better with him. Why are you avoiding the question, kitten?”

“Can you not fucking call me that?” You spat back, every muscle in your body tensing at the simple sound of it.

This whole thing was becoming ridiculous. Why should you even have to entertain him with an answer at all?

“Still haven’t answered the question…” He taunted.

“Minho! Minho was better, he _is_ better, he always will be better than you!” You yelled, losing the last remnants of your composure. You were just about through putting up with his prods and complications, the way he seemed to want to cause nothing but trouble wherever he could. You were sure he was trying to get a reaction out of you, and it had worked wonderfully.

An awkward silence filled the air, Hyunjin’s expression unreadable.

“Happy now?” You sighed, gesturing around the room that had very clearly had the atmosphere killed. “Fuck this. I’m out.”

You shoved yourself up from the sofa, sliding your glass onto the laden table as you made your way out of the room, every pair of eyes burning into your back as you walked.

You knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have come at all.

Bursting through the double doors, you made a beeline for the front one, pushing your way through the people that now seemed to be either completely intoxicated or under the influence of something other than alcohol.

You were about to leave, your hand hovering over the front door handle, when you remembered something you’d nearly left without.

“Shit. My coat.”

Turning to your left, you quickly slid open the door to the cloak cupboard, stepping just over the threshold to search for your coat.

When a firm arm around your waist pushed you all the way inside, the door sliding closed behind you, plunging you into blinding darkness.

“What the f-”

A gentle hand across your mouth silenced you as you were pressed up against the wall, coats and other items of outdoor wear surrounding you on all sides. 

“You know you shouldn’t tell lies, right? Didn’t your parents ever teach you that… kitten?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
> ~ Support via [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)


	6. Chapter 6

##### “You know you shouldn’t tell lies, right? Didn’t your parents ever teach you that… kitten?”

Hyunjin’s large frame caged you in, his free hand placed against the wall behind you. The stuffy atmosphere of the cupboard made your body run too hot, the space too confining to be anything other than suffocating.

Almost instantly, your heart began to race. Being in this close proximity with him was making you feel a hundred ways at once, your head not having the capacity in your hazed frame of mind to process it.

“I think I deserve the truth…” He whispered, slowly removing his hand from your mouth.

The pad of his thumb swept over your bottom lip, his eyes laced with pure desire as you could do nothing but gawp at him.

“I… I was telling the truth-”

He cocked his head at you, an act of nothing but scepticism.

“Really?” He purred, his hands sliding down the wall until they were level with your waist. “So that night we spent together… it wasn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had?”

“Hy- Hyunjin, you had your answer. I- I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not doing this with you right now-”

“Oh, kitten. But it’s written all over your face. I know _I’m_ the only man who’s ever made you cum that hard.”

Your breath caught as his large hands curved around your waist, his fingers working like claws to hike the material of your dress up over your hips. In moments, your lower half was exposed to him, your dress ridden around your middle.

He pressed himself against you, his right arm resting on the wall above your head, not allowing you even an inch of room to move as the fingertips of his free hand ghosted over the bare skin of your outer thigh, around to the inside.

“Hyunjin…”

He hummed in response, ignoring your gentle protest as his nails dragged the most subtle of paths over your skin, up towards your clothed heat. You fought desperately to control yourself as his hand enveloped your sex, sending waves of helpless warmth through your core.

A careful roll of his fingers applied just the bare amount of pressure to your clit over your panties, and you closed your eyes tightly. You couldn’t make a sound. Couldn’t give even the smallest indication that you were getting any pleasure from this.

_Do not let him win._

“Why are you trying so hard?” He purred, his breath hot on your cheek. “Just let yourself go, kitten. I know you need this, you’ve had such a hard day…”

The intonation behind his words was sweet, but you couldn’t ignore that the only reason you’d had a ‘bad day’ at all, was entirely down to him.

Yet before you could even attempt to stop him, his whole hand dipped down the front of your panties, sliding comfortably into the space between your thighs as he cupped your bare pussy. The contact made you shiver… you weren’t sure whether you wanted to cry out or moan, but either reaction would have been your ruin.

A sultry slide of his fingers sent them gliding through your wetness, and you wanted to damn your body for having such an involuntary response to him. He sighed in quiet content, slicking himself up in your juices as he continued to work you just enough to send those delicious sparks of pleasure tingling.

Your jaw tensed, your lids clamped shut in a futile attempt to stop yourself from showing any indication of lust. You couldn’t. Shakes settled into your bones, an audible muffle choking in your throat as he slipped one long, perfectly firm finger into your hot, velvety walls.

“Ugh… _fuck_ , you feel even better than I remember-”

You shook your head desperately, fingers curling into his shirt as he inserted and retracted his finger into you, creating a subtle rhythm of squelching sounds in addition to his heavy, laboured breathing. The knot in your stomach expanded steadily, with every plunge of his finger, your resolve crumbling by the second.

“Just let me hear it, Y/N. Stop fighting this… _Us_. Give me that sweet fucking sound…”

Any trust you had in yourself and your ability to hold anything together was well and truly dashed, replaced with an intense fear of what would come out of your mouth the second you opened it.

But that wasn’t about to put Hyunjin off. He now considered this a challenge.

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth tugging softly before he let it spring back on itself. Your head lolled to the side as he brushed his lips over the skin of your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Gentle, wet kisses painted your flesh, every one of them sending rampant desire through your nerves as his finger upheld a leisurely, consistent pace inside you.

He brought his arm down from the wall, tilting your chin up to look him in the eyes.

And insidious dread pooled in your stomach as his gaze met yours.

He bit on his lip, that same glint in his pupils that made you all but run away from him the first time you saw it, as he suddenly inserted a second finger into your walls. Without warning, his pace became feral, fingering you with a rushed intensity as his desire to make you whimper, scream, or say his name became the only thing he wanted.

And you simply couldn’t take anymore. The pleasure he was giving you, the fear he instilled in you for a reason you still couldn’t be sure of, and the dulling of your inhibitions thanks to the alcohol in your system was turning you into a person you never wanted to be.

You threw your head back, holding his crazed stare and parting your lips as a helpless moan of lustful anguish rolled off your tongue.

His eyes flashed in delight, the sound tipping him over the edge and sending him into a higher state of euphoria.

“ _Fuck_ yes. Good girl, you’re so good… let me hear it again, tell me how much better I am than him, kitten-”

His mutterings fell on deaf ears. You weren’t present anymore. Any sense of responsibility or obligation you had to anyone had been thrashed out of you. The mental exhaustion of dealing with your marriage, your emotions, in addition to the truths you’d been exposed to had finally taken their toll.

It could have been anyone here right now. You didn’t have it in you to care.

He sunk to his knees, fingers taking hold at the sides of your dampened panties as he dragged them down your legs. A firm hand hooked your leg over his shoulder, the other taking hold of your thigh as he held you in position.

One desperate whine after another emitted from you as his tongue connected with your clit, a hot, wet sensation of sheer pleasure that stimulated every single nerve in your body. He lapped at you like it was the only think he’d ever wanted, small sounds of content muffling against your soaking pussy while he dragged his tongue through your labia.

Your legs began to shake, your fingers lacing into his hair, gathering it at the back of his head as he rode you to your high. Knowing exactly what you wanted, he held still as you began to grind your hips against his face, relishing in every bit of friction you could get from him as he allowed you to drag yourself across his outstretched tongue.

“F- _fuck_ … oh my _god_ …”

Your salacious whimpers filled the stuffy cupboard, soaking into the coats and jackets, your encroaching orgasm being the singular thing on your mind as you slicked yourself across his glistening lips and firm, rough tongue. Taking back control, he held back your thighs, his plump mouth forming over your clit and creating the gentlest of cocoons as he suckled tenderly on you.

“H- Hyunjin… p- _please_ -”

Desperate appeals for release resounded through the cupboard, Hyunjin’s eyes glittering and fluttering at the sounds he’d been so frantically desperate to get out of you.

“Please what, kitten?” He crooned, lapping small kitten licks over your throbbing clit.

You wailed pathetically, too far gone to give a fuck about what you looked or sounded like right now.

“L- let me cum, Hyunjin… _please_ , just make me f- fucking cum-”

Had you been blessed with all your senses in that moment, had even a single cell of rational thought in your body, or not been gripped by the dulling embrace of alcohol, you’d have known.

You’d have known that the look he gave you when your careless, gluttonous exclamation hit his ears, was a look of obsessive, terrifying desire.

A look, that to normal people, would have told them to run. As far as their legs could carry them, without looking back.

But you didn’t notice. You didn’t even think twice about it as he pushed your body into the most intense of white hot orgasms.

You didn’t know then, how dearly you’d pay for it.

* * *

##### Another sleepless night had done nothing for your sunken complexion, and the harder you tried to fix it, the worse it became.

You smeared the concealer under your eyes hopelessly, only half trying make yourself look even remotely presentable.

You’d somehow woken up in your own bed, despite the numerous attempts from Hyunjin to get you to stay with him. Admittedly, most of the night was a blur.

After the incident in the cloak cupboard, you’d stayed a little while longer, mostly due to the sense of inappropriate obligation you felt to Hyunjin after he’d got you off. He’d kept you at his side, glued there like an accessory. So you’d drunk more, numbing your consciousness to the point where the pain became somewhat bearable.

But the rest of it? You couldn’t remember. Your memories had been replaced with a void of blackness, only able to offer the fuzziest of recollections or words that had been spoken to you in your less than sensible state.

It was nothing short of a miracle that you’d even managed to get home at all, because you also couldn’t recall how you’d done that.

But it would have been a lie to say you hadn’t wanted what had happened last night. You weren’t delusional enough to try and convince yourself that you couldn’t have stopped what happened with Hyunjin, if you’d wanted to. And that was just another slip up to add to the long, ever growing list of reasons that you shouldn’t be married, and not just to Minho. To anyone.

Clearly something in you had broken to the point of non-repair for you to keep repeating the same mistakes.

And by the looks of things, you weren’t alone in that.

Minho hadn’t come home last night, evidenced by the fact that his side of the bed remained neatly made up when you awoke. You dreaded to think where he’d stayed. Who he’d been with. Not that you had any room to judge after what you’d done.

Fluffing out your hair over your shoulders, you quickly tied it back into a messy bun, grabbing your keys from the table and making your way out to the car.

The pit in your stomach and the dull ache in your head threatened to knock you out at any moment, but staying home was almost worse.

At least at work, you could distract yourself long enough to get through the day.

* * *

##### “Yes… that’s right. Two of those, and I’ll need four of the water based lubricants. Just the usual stuff.”

You twirled a pen around absently in your fingers as you gave the order to the supplier. A restock had been needed sooner than expected, and that was in most part thanks to Seungmin and his play room antics over the weekend. You hadn’t asked for details, yet you were mildly curious as to what exactly required such gratuitous amounts of lube.

“Great, thanks. And you have the sex wipes and plugs as well, right? Can you just add that to the usual account? And it’ll be here with the others before the weekend? Okay. Yeah… sure. Thanks, take care.”

Ending the call, you threw the phone back to your desk before you quickly stood from your seat, making a beeline for the staff room to let the boys know the order had been made. They liked to be kept in the loop, despite not actually wanting to help when the goods arrived.

You left the office, rearranging your skirt around you as you made your way down the corridor. Poking your head around the door, you were surprised to find only Jeongin there. It was well past time for the boys to be at work by now.

“Jeongin? Where is everyone?” You asked, your brow furrowing.

“Oh… uh, they’ll be in later I think…? Probably not feeling great after last night.” He replied, his tone stammering far more than it should have been.

You narrowed your eyes, sensing the uncertainty to his voice and the gut feeling in your stomach that told you he might have been hiding something.

“Are you sure about that?”

He nodded in response, blinking rapidly as you took a few steps closer to him, clearly detecting that he was about to be busted.

“Are you _really_ sure? There’s not anything going on that I should know about? You know I rely on you to keep me in the know, right?”

If he hadn’t made such a point of avoiding your gaze, perhaps you wouldn’t have pushed so hard.

“Jeongin? Please?”

He groaned in frustration, no longer able to keep whatever secrets he was hiding to himself as he shot you a look of merciful appeal.

“Fine! Fine. They’re… they’re here already. But I’m 99.9% sure they’re not in any state to work yet, and I-”

“Hold up,” you interrupted, raising a hand to him. “They’re here? But where?”

Jeongin took his bottom lip between his teeth, loathe to tell you exactly what was going on, clearly for fear of your reaction.

But the penny had pretty much already dropped with you. There was only one place in this club that came to mind when the word 'party’ was concerned.

“Oh, those sons of bitches-”

You spun on your heel, marching out of the staff room as a panicked Jeongin followed behind you, his words of calm and attempts to get you to not lose your shit being painfully lost on you. Every step you took filled you with conviction as you prepared yourself to give them the best kicking you could muster.

Throwing open the double doors, you all but flew down the red velvet corridor, eyes searching for the room you needed.

“Which one is it?” You barked over your shoulder to a more than flustered Jeongin.

“Y/N, please don’t go crazy with them, they just-”

“Which one, Jeongin?!”

He closed his eyes in defeat, pointing to the Sweetheart room on your left. Seungmin’s room.

You didn’t give him a chance to protest or talk you down any further as you flung the door open, stepping inside the room that almost immediately, hit you with the stuffy odour of sex.

“Holy… fucking shit.”

You scanned the room wildly, eyes not knowing what to settle on first as you took in the scene before you. Though the first thing you noticed were the forms of naked people on the silk and satin laden bed.

Seungmin, sprawled utterly naked on his back, arm hung over the side of the bed as a dark haired girl slept peacefully on his chest, legs locked with his, covered from the waist down with one of the lavish sheets. You recognised her as one of the girls from the party. Ava, was it?

Next to her, was the auburn haired girl. Her friend, Davina. Also covered from the waist down with the same sheet Ava was making use of, except she was still sporting leather cuffs around her ankles. And at the other side of the bed, face buried into the auburn hair as he slept contently on his front, bare butt exposed to the thick, sex scented air of the room, was Jisung.

The four of them. Sleeping in the play room, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like it didn’t have to be cleaned, restocked, and prepared for tonight.

And restocking was definitely on the agenda. The floor was positively littered with sex toys, all of which you assumed were dirty, although you definitely weren’t prepared to get close enough to check. Flogs, clamps, vibrators, and ropes, various items of clothing, and a few lashings of nameless substances on the beautifully marbled floor that you prayed to god were just alcohol. But somehow you knew better than that. They’d even had the suspender rig out, judging from the cuffs that were still hanging nonchalantly from the metal.

You took another step inside, jaw agape as your head went blank.

You’d never actually seen the state of a play room after one of the more active nights, and you suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for the cleaning company you used. Those guys seriously needed a raise.

Approaching the end of the bed, you determinedly pulled your phone out of your pocket. Flicking the screen to life, you opened your Spotify and turned the volume up to the maximum setting.

You held it as close to the sleeping beauties as you dared to get, tapping the small play button that happily blasted out Slipknot’s Psychosocial, the perfect alarm for those that didn’t deserve a casual awakening.

Almost immediately, the four of them were yanked from their undeserved sleep, whines and grunts of displeasure coming from the boys as the girls all but shot up in fright, gathering the sheets around themselves and slinking up the bed on seeing your mocking smile.

“Well, good morning!” You shouted, waving the phone around. “Did we have a good night?!”

“Turn it off!” Seungmin growled, shoving his head under the pillow.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this not how you wanted to be woken up?!” You asked, moving around to his side and holding the phone next to his head, the heavy metal blasting through the speakers. “Well maybe this isn’t what I wanted to be dealing with this morning!”

“Y/N, please!” Jisung whined, turning over to his front as he propped himself up on his elbows.

You huffed under your breath, flicking the music off and shoving your phone back into your pocket.

“You guys are un- _fucking_ -believable. Get up, get dressed, I want you in my office. Now.”

Spinning on your heel, you shoved past a bewildered Jeongin who was still looking partially guilty, despite not actually being involved.

“What about the girls?” Jisung rasped, his voice hoarse from the evenings’ antics.

“What about them? Do they need breakfast?! A manicure, maybe?! Jesus, Jisung, get them the fuck out of here! You’ve got ten minutes.” You snarled, leaving the scene behind you.

Sweeping your hands through your hair, you clicked your tongue in irritation, rubbing at your temples as you walked back to your office, running through the things you’d have to do before Chan showed up. As much as you want to give each of those boys thirty lashings, Chan would undoubtedly burst a vein if he found about this, and that would mean nothing but trouble for everyone.

You were going to need help.

* * *

##### “You really, really can’t get here today?”

You pleaded down the phone with the cleaning company for the fifth time.

_“I’m sorry, Madam, but everyone is booked out for other jobs, you said you wouldn’t need us today. Your service was cancelled, I can quote the cancellation number if you-”_

“No, I know that’s what we did, but something’s come up and we just urgently need one of our rooms cleaned. Can’t you spare even one person? We’re loyal customers, we use you all the time!”

_“I’m sorry, we really don’t have anyone available. Please accept our apologies. I can give you the number of some other companies that might be able to-”_

“Ugh, fuck!”

Losing the last strings of your patience, you ended the call and shoved your phone away, storming down the hallway with nothing but rage in your step, pissed off with yourself for cancelling the cleaners in the first place. You were just trying to save money with the play rooms not being in use last night, but perhaps they could have used the extra TLC. So much for being frugal.

You approached your office, throwing open the door with far more force than you needed to, an effort to vent your anger.

And you stopped in your tracks like you’d been punched in the gut. An instant ache in your chest coupled with an overwhelming surge of guilt almost crushed you as you saw who was inside.

It had felt like forever since you’d seen him, despite it only being less than a day.

“Hi…” You muttered, your greeting coming out as a breath. You closed the door behind you, his presence putting a quick lid on your temper.

“Hi.” Minho replied, putting your blazer back across the seat of your chair. You wondered what he’d been doing with it, but decided it was better not to ask. This was tense enough as it was.

“You got here quick…”

“Yeah, well, you said it was urgent.” He replied, referring to the several seconds long phone conversation you’d had where you’d asked him when he was getting to work.

He looked tired. Exhausted, even. The bags under his eyes were no better than when you’d seen him for a brief moment the night before, and you wondered if he’d slept at all. His steely tresses were swept back on one side, exposing that picture perfect side profile as he deliberately avoided your gaze.

Everything in you was hurting, any rage you’d felt towards him being replaced with the knowledge of your evening deeds. The urge to kiss him, hold him, it was stronger than you’d ever felt. But you couldn’t do that. You knew he didn’t want it. And if he knew what you’d done last night, he’d only hate you more.

“So what’s up?” He eventually asked, breaking the silence that had settled in as you moved to sit at your desk.

“Oh, uh… I,” you cleared your throat, blinking away the subtle beginnings of tears that had begun to form. You couldn’t cry here. There was too much to do. “So Jisung and Seungmin used the play room last night, and we basically need to set it back to a presentable state before Chan gets here. I just… I needed your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed to the dark oak of your desk as he sat down opposite you.

“What were they doing in the play room in the first place, weren’t we closed last night? Or is that another thing I was neglected to be informed of?”

“We _were_ closed, Minho. I don’t know how they got in, presumably they swiped the keys. I guess they came here after the party.” You replied, choosing to ignore the snarky comment he threw in. You had no right to blame him.

“Ah, right,” he sighed, crossing his legs elegantly as he reclined into the chair. “The party. How was it, by the way?”

A lump of panic formed in your throat, unwanted visions of what Hyunjin had done to you in the cloak cupboard pouring back, playing at the edges of your head. You wanted to forget. And deep down inside, you wanted to tell Minho the truth. You knew he deserved it.

“It was fine.” You choked out, eyes fixed anywhere but your husband.

“Just fine?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Y- yes. Just fine. Nothing special.”

His brow furrowed, clearly picking up on the bullshit you were spouting. You weren’t sure why you thought you could get away with lying to the one man who knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Did you get drunk?”

“Yeah. I did. I had a bad day yesterday, sue me.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you resigned yourself to his grilling. Honestly, part of you was grateful that he still cared enough to even ask.

“So you were hammered. And the party was still just fine?” He asked, cocking his head.

“Minho, I-”

Without really knowing why, you stopped yourself before you could finish.

You were about to give him an excuse. Some halfhearted attempt at a lie that he’d see straight through, and you’d continue going round in circles. The two of you playing this endless, degrading game of trying to catch each other out, neither wanting to be the one to cave first and admit to their mistakes, the trust between you crumbling with every little question and every conceited answer.

You loved him. Didn’t you?

So why were you doing this?

“Hyunjin, he… he got me off last night.”

“What?”

It was a hiss, an admission of disgust that almost didn’t warrant an explanation. But you were going to give it anyway.

You took a deep breath, looking him straight in the eye as you reinforced the decision you’d made merely seconds ago. You weren’t going to dance around any of this anymore. Experience had taught you that secrets had a way of coming back to bite you, and you weren’t going to give this one a chance to.

Minho already hated you, so you could at least clear your conscience. This was the right thing to do. It had to be.

“I was about to leave the party. They were playing some stupid game, he provoked me, and… well, that’s besides the point. He pulled me into the cloak cupboard. He fingered me. Went down on me. Gave me a mind blowing orgasm.”

While Minho hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even attempted to interrupt your blunt confession, he didn’t need to. The subtle quaking of his shoulders and the rigidity of his jawline told you that he was simmering at the edges.

“That’s what you wanted to know, right? The elephant in the room? Did I fuck Hyunjin?”

“Did you?” He growled.

You shirked the feeling of offence that question gave you, reminding yourself once again, that you had no right to be angry with him. At this point, he probably felt like he barely knew you at all.

“No. I don’t think so. Honestly, I don’t remember much after that. But I don’t think I did.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as he tried to contain whatever it was he was feeling.

“Why did you let him do that?” He eventually asked.

“You think I wanted it?” You scoffed, your tone rising. “He had me cornered in a fucking cupboard, Minho. I tried to-”

_You’re lying. Stop._

“Actually… no. That’s not true. When things got heated I… I did want it. I wanted him to make me cum. I needed it, Minho. I mean… _fuck_ , I just needed to feel something other than this pain that’s ripping me in two!”

He shook his head, biting on his lip in an effort to retain control.

“You weren’t there Minho… You didn’t give a fuck where I was last night, I know that. But where did you stay? Because you sure as shit weren’t at home.”

“Do not even try to turn this back on me-” He uttered, his voice quaking.

“I’m not. I’m just asking where you were. Be fucking honest with me. For once. Don’t we owe each other that, at least?”

“I’m not doing this.” He muttered, standing from his seat. “Deal with the fucking play room yourself.”

“Minho!” You shouted, getting up from yours as you ran around your desk. “You do not get to walk out on this conversation!”

You grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him back towards you as best you could before he spun around to face you. With one quick motion, you were caught in his grip, pressed to the door in front of him with more force than you’d anticipated as the wind got knocked out of you.

He leaned in to your face, mere inches away as his eyes pierced yours.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking honesty. Maybe I didn’t want to know that my wife was fucked by someone else’s fingers last night. Did you ever think about that, you dense little whore?”

Your eyes flew open wide at his tone, the sheer impact of them almost hitting you for six.

“Minho, I just-”

“Just what? Thought you’d enlighten me as to how good it was with him? The first sign of trouble in our marriage, and instead of trying to fix things, you go and get your cunt licked, to… what was it? _'Forget’_ your pain?”

The spin he’d put on things, the brutal light he was shining on the sordid activities you’d indulged in was nothing short of shattering. Because he was right. You’d tried so hard to justify it. But there wasn’t any justification that would be enough, when everything was laid bare.

“You want honesty? I’ll give you fucking honesty.” He growled, slamming his hand against the door beside your head.

“I was _this_ close,” he snarled, bringing his free hand to your face, gesturing the smallest of spaces between his index finger and his thumb, “To getting my dick wet last night. I was at the bar, same place I always go to when I need to drown out the things _you_ put me through.”

He bent his knees, getting on eye level with you, caging you into the cell he’d created with his arms.

“You know how many women approached me? A few guys, too. Any one of them, I could have had. No questions, no strings, no fucking consequences. But I didn’t. I didn’t _fucking_ do it!” He yelled, slamming his hand against the door again.

You winced helplessly, trembling with the mix of emotions you were feeling.

“You know why I didn’t?” He asked, his tone quieter, but no less tense.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stared firmly at his broad chest, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Because of you. Because of the look on your face after the first mistake I made. Y/N, I never wanted to see that again. It’d kill me.”

You released a small sob, an exclamation of your raging guilt and self loathing. You wanted to die.

“Because… I love you, Y/N. I… I just _fucking_ love you.”

His words came out as a trembling whisper, a heartbreaking confession that shouldn’t have been a surprise to you. Yet it was nothing but that.

You wanted to apologise, though you knew it would never be enough. The gentle scent of his cologne, the warmth of his body so close to yours, everything about him held that soft familiarity that healed you in ways you knew you didn’t deserve. You’d hurt him, and that was all there was to this relationship now.

Hurt, anger, and resentment.

“I’m sorry.” You rasped, clutching your fingers into his shirt carefully, about to let your head fall against his chest when he took a single step back.

“We keep doing this,” he breathed, his eyes dark and tired. “Apologising to each other. Hurting each other. Rinse and repeat. It shouldn’t be like this, Y/N.”

You shook your head, eyes watery as you looked up at him.

“I… I’m seeing a lawyer. First thing in the morning.”

_No._

“We’ll get the papers filed, and… after that, I don’t know. We’ll go our separate ways.” He murmured.

_No, no, no._

Your breathing quickened, the lump in your throat manifesting as a helpless sob at his words. You’d known your marriage was too broken to be fixed. But the simple of mention of lawyers, papers, legal proceedings of any kind… It made everything so _real_.

“P- please, Minho… can’t we just, t- talk? I can’t lose you like this, I can’t do it-”

“There’s nothing more to say. We’re toxic. No good for each other. We both deserve a chance at happiness. But not together.”

Vision blurring and heart pounding in your ears, your legs buckled as your strength faded. He was really ending this. For good.

His strong arms embraced you once again, a heartbreaking, final goodbye as he pulled you into his body and pressed his lips to your head.

Your centre of existence was being pulled from your core, the pain in your body too much for you to bear. There were so many things you wanted to say. Beg him. Plead with him. Promise him that you’d never see Hyunjin, or anyone else, ever again. Give him anything if it meant he’d just stay with you.

Yet you couldn’t. You were shattered. Numb and void of anything rational as you simply cried into his chest.

“Don’t… don’t let me g- go… Not after everything we’ve been through…”

A gentle sigh escaped him, coupled with a careful squeeze of his arms around you. He broke the embrace, looking down at you as he held you at arms length.

You couldn’t read his face. Couldn’t tell what he was feeling, or thinking. Part of you even expected him to break out into that ornery smile, sweeping you into his arms as he reassured you that he didn’t mean anything he’d said.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For all of this.”

But that was nothing more than a hopeless daydream.

“I’ll be gone before you get home tonight.”

With those final, soul draining words, he released you, stepping around you as he went to leave the room. The soft click of the door closing behind you resounded through the room, sending shivers down your spine as pure isolating heartache set in.

He was gone. He’d left you. Cold, and alone, to pick up the ruined pieces of your life.

And you only had yourself to blame.

* * *

##### The rest of the day had been a timeless blur.

Your head throbbed. Your stomach churned. Tears flowed endlessly, no longer needing any prompting from you as they rolled down your cheeks without permission. You were in pain. The worst kind of it. The one that you couldn’t do anything to heal, because you knew the only thing that could even attempt to soothe it, was him.

And he simply wasn’t here.

You’d already entered autopilot, going through the motions of typing and reading, doing the things you normally did, not actually absorbing or completing anything that required major brain activity.

When the door to your office flew open, bouncing off the hinges with the force of the impact.

You glanced up at the intruder, not recognising him for a moment until you registered their face as Chan.

“What in the name of christ went on in that fucking play room?!” He yelled maniacally as he stormed into your office.

Ah. The play room. You’d forgotten.

“I mean, jesus! It’s one thing to have the clients leave it in a state like that, but the boys?! We weren’t even fucking open last night, how did they get the fucking keys?!” He continued, arms flailing every which way.

You watched in absence, minus any reaction you’d normally have.

“Why didn’t you fix this?!” He shouted, slamming his hands on your desk.

You shook your head, mustering all your knowledge of english and grammar as you tried to string a sentence together.

“I… I tried to-”

“What do I fucking pay you for?! You’ve had all day to sort this out and it’s still not even remotely presentable, we open in a few hours! What are you going to do about this?!” He interrupted.

You closed your eyes, more tears rolling free as you took a slow, deep breath.

“I tried to sort it, Chan. I just… I couldn’t… I didn’t…”

He cocked his head at you, eyes narrowing and expression softening as he began to pick up on the fact that something wasn’t quite right with you. At all.

“Hey… Y/N?” He roused, approaching the side of your desk. He spun your chair around carefully, sinking to his knees in front of you.

“Y/N, baby girl… Look at me.”

You met his concern filled gaze, your own expression still void of anything readable. He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, swiping away the tears that had fallen with the pad of his thumb.

Yet you didn’t feel it. The contact was nothing but unfamiliar to you, your body awash with a lingering numbness.

“You need to go home. Right now.” He stated, taking your hands in his as he pulled you from the chair.

“N- no, no, no, no… No, Chan, I… I can’t g- go home-” You breathed, your words staggering over the hyperventilation his suggestion caused. Going home to an empty house would be the final nail in your already essentially sealed coffin.

“Okay! Okay… It’s okay…” He soothed hurriedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “You don’t have to go home, I just… I don’t think you’re in any state to work.”

You nodded in understanding, your legs too weak to hold your own weight as you leaned on Chan for support.

“Is there anywhere you can go?” He asked, his tone still gentle.

You remained silent, unable to think of any emergency contingencies you could turn to in this moment.

“What about… the play room?” Chan whispered.

The unprompted mention of the taboo room didn’t repulse you as much as it once did. In fact, the idea made your heart wrench with familiarity.

“His… I want his play room.” You replied, your voice barely audible.

You weren’t quite sure why the idea sat so well with you, or why you wanted to be in his room specifically. Perhaps it was the underlying desire you had to be close to him. Maybe the hope that you’d be able to reconnect with him, somehow, if you went there.

Chan’s face morphed into one of understanding as he saw the brief moment of acceptance in your face. You both knew the room went unused now, but it still remained the one piece of him that stayed at Seventh Heaven. And Chan must have followed that train of thought. As much of a diva as he could be, he was also hopelessly intuitive. There was no better pillar of support.

So you simply nodded, the suggestion growing on you more with every second.

“Good. Let’s go, baby.”

* * *

##### Silk and satin sheets surrounded you, caressing your bare skin with the softest of embraces.

You nuzzled your head into the pillow beneath you, pulling the sheets up around your shoulders. The material did little to heal the frost that had embedded itself into your chest, but it was a small comfort that you’d take right now.

Closing your eyes, you let the gentle atmospheric melody Chan had put on for you flood through your ears. It filled the red velvet room, seeping into every corner, acting as a coaxing lullaby. It was soothing. Calming. But again, was doing close to nothing to completely ease you of the sickening pain.

_“Sleep. Take all the time you need. I’ll lock the door, so you’re not interrupted. Call when you want out, or spend the night. Whatever. And if you need anything, just shout for me. You’ll be okay, baby girl.”_

Those had been Chan’s words of reassurance. You appreciated his promise that you’d be okay, even though you knew he was wrong. At least he cared enough to attempt to make you feel better.

You’d waited until he’d left the room, the soft click of the lock on the door letting you know that, for now, you were safe. From what, you couldn’t be sure. But the room acted as a temporary haven the moment Chan had turned on the under-floor heating and gentle music, and it soon began to send you into a sleep induced daze.

You’d removed your clothes, slinking beneath the covers, wrapping yourself in the sheets like a second skin.

You’d have a bath later… perhaps use the rosewater lotion that Minho always liked. Then maybe something to eat? If you could stomach it. Or perhaps you’d just sleep. Either way, this isolation was all you wanted. Isolation of your choosing, in a place where you could be close to him. Because you couldn’t be with him. So, by your current illogical reasoning, this was the next best thing.

Despite the things you knew he’d done in this room, with many people, over many years, you still felt more connected to him here than you would have done anywhere else. Moreso even than in your own home.

The sick irony of that wasn’t lost on you.

The gentle callings of sleep tugged at the edges of your mind, palpable exhaustion catching up with you as everything in you simply fell blank.

No thoughts. No need to be present, in this moment. Just sleep.

It was all you craved.

* * *

##### “So beautiful…”

A prickling sensation on your skin.

_“All for me… finally…”_

A feather light touch, barely a touch at all.

_“Just wish you hadn’t fought it for so long…”_

A hot wisp of air, warm against your neck.

_“But it’s okay… We’re on the right track now. We can fix this…”_

You shifted slightly, a small, groggy action made in an attempt to silence the muffled, barely audible words that crooned at you. Nightmares right now were unsurprising, but you just wanted to sleep, as free of them as you could be.

_“Let me take care of you…”_

Your brow furrowed, the feeling of the cool air in the room on your bare skin making you shiver helplessly. You slid your arm down to-

No. You couldn’t.

Something was stopping you.

The sleepy haze you were in began to wear off, your eyes cracking open just enough to assess what exactly had withheld you. You tried to move your arm again, and this time, you heard it.

The sharp rattling of metal. The clinking of chains that only happened when you tried to move.

You looked up through half open lids, turning your head to see the cuffs that had been hooked around your wrists, linked securely to the bed posts.

Your reaction was immediate. Panic and heart wrenching terror set in as your eyes flew open, your legs kicking frantically as you shot up the bed, pulling yourself up on the chains.

The first thing you noticed after that, was the sudden appearance of racy black lingerie you seemed to be adorning. Thigh high lace stockings, complete with suspenders and five inch stiletto heels, while your top half had been left naked. You’d been dressed up like a doll, bereft of the silk sheets that had been covering you before.

And the source of the lustful whispers. The mutterings you’d mistaken to be a product of your dreams. They’d come from the man sat at the end of your bed, legs crossed elegantly, midnight locks falling around the perfection that was his face.

“W- what are you d- doing?!” You rasped, your throat utterly dry.

“Good. You’re awake,” he purred, standing from the end of the bed. He was naked from the waist up, his perfectly sculpted form presented to you. He hooked his thumbs into the rings of his low rise jeans, admiring you with an unashamed leer on his face.

“We have a few things to discuss, kitten. And you won’t be leaving here, until I… am _totally_ satisfied.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	7. Chapter 7

##### “You won’t be leaving here, until I… am totally satisfied.”

Your wrists constricted by the cuffs that were wrapped tightly around you, secured in place to the bed posts, your lingerie clad body on display for him as he liked it. Ice cold fear and dread seeped through you, the insane reality of this situation settling in as Hyunjin stalked around the edge of the bed, his eyes laving across you without abandon.

“Hy- Hyunjin… whatever you’re thinking of d- doing, I can guarantee you it’s a mistake.” You stammered, tugging on the chains that held you in place, a vain attempt that only caused them to pinch at your skin.

“Save it.” He barked, settling himself next to you. “I’ve waited far too long for an opportunity like this.”

He outstretched his hand, ghosting his fingertips over your navel, drawing mindless patterns on the skin. You closed your eyes tight, feeling nothing but revulsion as you did your best not to break into a helpless scream. Thought it would have been hopeless, given the soundproofing you knew these rooms had.

“You don’t know, do you? The trouble you’ve caused me?” He muttered, more to himself than to you.

“The sleepless nights and feverish dreams… Dreams of fucking you, claiming you… over, and over, and over again, making you scream that sweet _fucking_ sound that comes from that pretty little mouth…”

He swept his thumb across your bottom lip, and you jerked your head away, loathe to be touched by him at all.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You shouted, losing your remaining sense of calm with each passing second.

He shook his head subtly, standing from the bed and approaching one of the drawers in the corner of the room. Unlike the last time you were in a play room with him, you were now painfully aware of its’ contents. You were the one that supplied them.

“I’m talking about the way you’ve changed me, kitten. The man you’ve turned me into,” he mused, opening the drawer as he nonchalantly looked over the collection it offered.

“You own me, you know. Every part of me.”

You watched in wide eyed fear as he withdraw a larger than average vibrator, black in colour and ribbed all the way down. He slapped it firmly against his hand, smiling in grim satisfaction as he closed the drawer with a motion of his hip, making his way back to you.

“I swear to god, if you touch me, I’ll scream-”

“There’s no need for that.” He interrupted, sitting back on the edge of the bed. He swept his hair back from his face, meeting your watery gaze.

“We’re going to talk. You’re going to listen to me, finally,” he stated, placing the vibrator down on the sheets in front of you. “This is just… an incentive.”

You shook your head in disbelief, hardly processing what you were hearing.

“If talking is all you want, then fucking uncuff me, right now!”

“Oh, kitten,” he tutted disapprovingly. “I can’t do that. I told you, this is the only chance I’ll get to have you to myself for a little while. So just indulge me, hm?”

You thrashed against the chains, gritting your teeth as your fear was quickly being replaced with bubbling anger at his whole attitude. His entitlement was infuriating, yet moreso than that was your ability to do nothing, like a fish hooked to his bait, helpless to do anything but gasp for breath.

“Talk then.” You growled.

“Well first,” he smiled, cocking his head at you. “I need you to tell me if its’ true.”

“If what’s true?”

“The divorce. You and him. You’re done?”

A lashing of pain shot through you, the pit in your stomach swelling all over again as the mention of him and the bleak reality of your marriage reminded you of what you’d felt before this panic. You wondered if he’d save you from all this. If he’d burst through the door, sweep you up in his arms and make it all go away.

 _God_ , if you’d ever needed a knight in shining armour, now was the time.

“How d- do you even know about that?” You replied, your voice a whisper.

He simply smiled, raising an eyebrow, coaxing you for the answer.

“Yes… H- He ended it. He… He’s done.”

And the reaction hadn’t been entirely what you’d expected.

The bed began to shake gently as Hyunjin doubled over, his arms circling his waist, clawing at his skin. His shoulders quaked, a low, deep sound emitting from him, one that you could have sworn was akin to laughter.

You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded by the reaction. He… found it funny?

“I can’t… can’t fucking believe it!” He cackled, throwing his head back dramatically. “It’s almost too good to be true! The timing, it’s perfect!”

“What the hell is so funny about this?!” You shouted, a single tear rolling free despite yourself.

“Don’t you see?!” He sniggered, turning to face you, his voice laced with something you’d never heard from him before. “It’s fate, Y/N. Destiny! I _knew_ you two would never work!”

His expression was morphing into one you could no longer read. He was borderline hysterical, laughter creasing his face as he tried to put his thoughts together, to explain the maniacal logic that was no doubt forming in the murk.

“You… you and him,” he breathed, crawling to his knees as he approached you over the bed. “Y/N, you were never good, never supposed to be together. You know that now, don’t you?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t comprehend any of this. Confusion and fright prodded at you, iced tendrils of dread pooling in your stomach as you could do nothing but watch the insanity he was falling into.

“That night… the one night we spent together, Y/N, it was the best night of my life. I _knew_ you’d be mine, I could _fucking_ feel it. I know you did too. Those months away only confirmed everything I’d felt! That you… you’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, kitten. Watching you from afar, _fuck_ it was so hard… b- but, I bided my time, stayed in the shadows, supported you silently, never too far away from you, and now…” he laughed, raising his hands to the air, in worship of a thing you didn’t even want to know.

“Here we are. You, and me. Just the way it was supposed to be.”

“What… what do you mean?” You whispered, voice cracking with the implication of his ramblings. As hard as they were to decipher, you’d definitely caught on to something he’d said.

“D- Didn’t you leave town…?”

He broke into an adoring smile, once again knocking you for six with how quickly he was shifting between personas.

“No, kitten. I couldn’t possibly have left town. You needed me here. Needed me to watch over you. I did what was right.”

Your blood ran cold with the revelation. 

He’d never left. He’d been in town the whole time. Following. Watching. Stalking.

“You… you s- _stalked_ me…? For five months?” You choked out the question, your body trembling helplessly.

Your mind raced with the possibilities as to the things he’d seen, where he’d been at any one time. Had he known about the night Minho reclaimed his stage? The night he’d danced? Had that been what had coaxed him out?

You couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t be sure it even mattered anymore.

“Stalked?!” He cried, slamming his fist down onto the bed. “I’m no _fucking_ stalker. I just had to know for certain, Y/N, I just…”

He trailed off, shuffling on his knees up the bed as he clambered closer to you. You instinctively recoiled, your back hitting the cold headboard as you eventually ran out of space to move.

“Listen…” he breathed, placing his hands either side of your stocking clad legs. He shook his head violently, as if recalling a memory that seemed to be causing him physical pain in its presence. “I couldn’t let you go again, Y/N. I will never forgive myself for that _fucking_ mistake I made. I- I don’t know what I was thinking. Encouraging you to be with that w- waste of life-”

And as if the switch had gone again, his expression softened, his eyes widening.

“I had to act. I simply protected you, made sure you were okay… I couldn’t do that in the club, you see? _He_ was always there, like a fucking rash you can’t shift, a parasite leeching off your beauty and… and y- yes, I had to pull a few strings, call in some favours to move to your neighbourhood b- but, it was worth it, right?! Look at us now!”

“Move to my _fucking_ neighbourhood?!” You choked.

He was losing his composure by the second. Insanity taking over, creeping through his perfected facade like an infection. Crazed reasoning and ludicrous obsession bubbling to the surface with all the months he’d kept it buried.

“What?” He scoffed, seemingly offended at your outburst. “You didn’t think our little run in at the convenience store was an accident, did you? I mean, come on, kitten. I believe in destiny but sometimes you’ve got to be proactive, you know? Just a little push to bring us together-”

“Hyunjin, stop!” You cried, unable to listen to any more of his ramblings. “Do you hear yourself?! You’re insane, what the hell happened to you?! You were defending Minho just the other day!”

The moment the words left your mouth, you were flooded with regret. You’d seen enough movies to know that calling out the crazed killer on their very obvious flaws was a good way to get yourself gutted. But hindsight would do you no good now.

“In… insane? Me…?” He muttered, sitting back on his knees as a dumbfounded expression struck him. “Why would you say that?”

Your eyes flicked to his hand as he mindlessly picked up the vibrator, his grip on it tightening, knuckles turning white.

“N- no, Hyunjin, I… I didn’t mean that. I meant… I’m not sure what I meant, but I’m just… this is all just a bit much, you know? It’s so sudden…” You explained, trying your best to keep your tone stable.

You needed to talk him down.

“I’m not insane, Y/N. I’m in love. With you. And I need you to recognise that now. I’m done waiting for my turn. And for your information, the only reason I defended that… _him_ ,” he muttered, seemingly unable to say your husbands’ name or even address the title, “Was to make sure you stayed on side. Couldn’t come on too strong, you know?”

The juxtaposition of his statement and current actions was head spinning. Though he didn’t seem to notice.

He flicked the vibrator on, the subtle quaking of the toy reverberating through the room, sending chills down your spine as he held it up in front of his face.

“I do recognise it! I understand! I do, Hyunjin, please-” You appealed, bringing your knees to your chest, your heels creating pinpoints in the mattress. “Please… I see everything now, I swear!”

He cocked his head, his eyes rife with that terrifying glint of sadism you’d noticed only a few times before. You wanted to kick yourself for not seeing the signs. For not paying more _fucking_ attention to the things you said and did around him.

“I don’t think you do…” He sighed, wrapping his fingers around your ankle as he dragged your leg back down the bed.

He held the toy against your calf, dragging a careful path over your leg, up towards your heat. The vibrations pricked at your body through the sheer material, doing nothing but sending you reeling into a blind panic. 

“Hyunjin, stop!” You shouted, desperately trying to pull your legs back to yourself, but he held you firmly in place. “Please! I know you love me, I’ve known it all along!”

His head suddenly snapped up, the toy in his hand dropping to the bed as your affirmation hit him. You knew you were playing with fire, but he was in no state to be reasoned with. You’d have to fight insanity, with just that.

“You knew?” He asked, his breath catching as he looked up at you with wide eyes, his demeanour completely shifting once again.

“Y- yes… I knew…” You breathed, holding yourself together.

“How did you find out?” He asked, wondrous curiosity setting in to his tone.

“I… I just… felt it.”

This was such a bad idea. The worst of any idea you’d ever had. Because now you were lying, and experience had taught you that lying had a way of getting you caught in worse situations than you’d ever anticipated.

“I knew you’d feel it,” he leered, his tone rising. “Because you were made for me, kitten. Weren’t you?”

You nodded, controlling your breathing, watching as he shuffled closer to you. Adoration was written all over his face, and you knew you were getting somewhere by appealing to him like this.

“Y- yes… I think I see it now…” You muttered, tensing all over as he positioned himself in the space between your legs, sat on his knees.

“Oh, kitten… that’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear. You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.”

You nodded, holding his vision as well as you could, putting on your best endearing smile.

“Why… why don’t you uncuff me, hm? And we’ll talk about this, properly. I know that’s all you want, Hyunjin…”

He nodded in agreement, utterly fixated with you as he leaned in towards you, your simple acknowledgement being all it took.

His body became flush with yours, the warmth of his bare torso pressing against yours doing nothing to ease the churning in your stomach. The contact made you nauseous.

_Bear with it. Play along. Wait for your moment._

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N… so p- pure and… and stunning, I… I just want to-”

His muttering dissolved into nothing, his lips connected with the skin of your neck, soft and warm in their feeling, yet none of that mattered to you. You fought the urge to thrash around, steeling your resolve as he traced a path over you, lapping and sucking as he went.

Soft murmurs escaped him, so lost in his own consumption of you that he barely noticed how tense you’d become, which all things considered, was probably a good thing.

“Hyunjin… Hey,” you breathed, attempting to break through his daze. “H- how about you uncuff me now?”

“But I like you like this kitten… You liked it too. Remember?” He purred, dragging his tongue across your collarbone.

Shaking off the unwanted recollection his words brought back to you, you desperately tried to think of something you could use to get him to unbind you.

“I do… I do like it,” you whispered, “But I can’t touch you like this…”

He swiftly sat upright, his eyes hooded as the prospect of you touching him again set his body alight.

“Do you… want to touch me?” He whispered in rasp.

You nodded, a wordless gesture that you chose as an alternative to the words. As if saying it out loud would make this situation any worse than it already was.

He groaned from his throat, a purely lustful sound as he reached above you, long fingers deftly unhooking the cuff from your right arm. You remained in control, reminding yourself that you still stood little chance of getting away from him if you just ran without reason. You needed something more than that.

Your right arm fell to your side, quickly followed by your left, and you were swept up in his arms before you could even react.

He settled himself on the edge of the bed, positioning you over his lap, legs straddling him either side as his hands slid up your spine, holding you close to him.

You held his shoulders, still careful not to give away any sign of the revulsion that was creeping through your bones, or the scream that was lingering in your throat, waiting for its’ moment to escape.

“Touch me then, kitten.”

This was your chance.

You nodded quietly, sliding your leg around his side, followed by the other as you stood up straight in front of him, nestled in the space between his open legs. Taking his wrists in your hands, you placed them at either side of your waist, biting subtly on your lip as you laced your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Yes… just like that, Y/N… Show me how much you love me-”

His words of insane indulgence went straight over your head as you refused to let them get to you. Your walls were down. Firm and stalwart, because they had to be. Your sanity depended on it.

His eyes fluttered closed, his head rolling back as you leaned in to him and pressed your lips to his neck carefully. You were physically trembling, and you almost couldn’t believe Hyunjin hadn’t caught on yet.

You curved your free hand over his broad shoulder, his own hands firm on your body as he slid them around your back and down over your lingerie clad butt cheeks. He squeezed them gently, your breasts on his eye level, acting as the perfect distraction for your plan.

You took a deep breath, grinding your teeth in preparation. Your grip on his shoulder hardened, your knee tense, ready to act.

And you took your opportunity.

With all the strength you could muster, every little bit of hatred and daring you could find within you, every piece of frustration and pent up rage, a result of the passing weeks and days, you brought your knee up to his groin. A sharp, hard crack connected your knee cap with his most vulnerable area, and a bellowing yelp ripped from him.

“F- fuck! Shit! You _fucking_ -”

Incoherent, rabid screams of curses and other obscenities filled the room. He all but shoved you away as his hands instinctively went to cup himself, his overwhelming pain being the immediate priority. He fell backwards to the bed, rocking back and forth in a fetal position, and your adrenaline kicked in almost instantly.

_Get out. Run._

You broke into a flat out sprint, heading for the door of the play room, grabbing the white silk robe from the floor as you did so. Your heels clacked against the marble of the tiles, your body acting by itself as you yanked the door open. Throwing the robe around your shoulders, you ran as quickly as your legs could take you, tears streaming down your cheeks now that you were breathing something other than stuffy, tension filled air.

_Where? Where do I go? Help. I need help._

You were in the club. Help shouldn’t be far away. There had to be someone here. Chan, Jisung, Changbin, Jeongin, Felix, Seungmin, maybe Butler, or a member of staff, _anyone_.

Throwing yourself through the large double doors, out of the play room corridor, you were utterly surprised to see the lights off. The waiting room was dark. Everything was deathly quiet.

“No, no, no, no…” You rambled, panic rising as you ran into the main area of the club.

Empty. Not a single living soul in sight. The stage was dark, the lights dulled and the doors closed. Chairs had been set atop tables, something that only happened when the club was shut for the night. You knew you’d slept, but had no idea for just how long. What time even was it right now?

But why hadn’t Chan woken you up? Why hadn’t anyone come for you? Why were the play rooms so quiet? None of this made any sense.

“Fuck, fuck!” You whined, bouncing on your feet as you looked around, weighing up your options.

No phone. No keys, and the front door would surely be locked.

“Y/N! You _fucking_ b- bitch!”

The booming sound of Hyunjin’s voice came from behind you, distant, yet close enough for you to know that he was now up and moving. You knew that would only have disabled him for so long.

Moving on autopilot, you headed for the only other place you knew would be safe.

Running to the back of the club, you threw aside the curtain and swept down the corridor, taking a brief moment to look into the staff room, your dread only building as you saw it empty.

You wobbled uncertainly on your feet, rushing into your office and closing the door behind you as quietly as you could. Deciding it would be best to leave the light off, you headed straight for your desk, pulling out the chair and slinking into the small space beneath it.

Knees curled up to your chest, you took a moment to catch your breath, doing your best to control your inhales and exhales before you knew you’d have to hold again. Uncontrollable tremors had set in, a result of the heady combination of adrenaline and fright.

“Come out kitten!”

Your heart thudded erratically, totally unable to slow itself down as his voice resounded through the hallway outside.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Y/N! You know I don’t like to be tested!”

Footsteps padded over the floor, growing increasingly louder in their sound as he approached your hiding place.

“Oh, but it’s okay, kitten. I’m not mad… No… I can forgive. You just need to be brought into line, that’s all! You’ve had it too easy with that prick before me. I’ll show you the way, I know you’re just confused…”

You closed your eyes tightly, the incessant ramblings he was spouting driving you to the brink of your sanity.

When the soft clicking of your office door opening made your heart jump to your throat.

You brought your legs closer to yourself, curling up even smaller, burying your head into your arms. Trembling, shivering, with tear stained cheeks and unable to breathe, you prayed, for the first time in your life. A silent plea to some higher power that _someone, somehow,_ would come to rescue you. You’d never felt such palpable fear.

“You in here, kitten?”

His voice croaked through the room, his laboured breaths now clearly audible as he stepped a foot inside. The light flicked on, and you winced with the brightness, huddling into yourself like a child.

“Marco…” He crooned, a sing song lilt to his voice as he waited for the response that would never come. This was a game to him.

A sick experience of cat and mouse, and you were utterly trapped.

Yet as if the higher, omnipotent power you’d appealed to answered your prayers, a sudden distorted, crackling sound of static resonated from down the hallway, echoing through the rooms. It was a perfectly well timed distraction, and almost sounded like it was coming from speakers in the direction of the staff room. But that couldn’t be right. There were no speakers there to your knowledge… were there?

Either way, the sound proved enough to draw Hyunjin’s attention as the light in the room flicked off, and hurried footsteps moved away from your position. You recognised the clacking of the hallway tiles under his feet as he left the carpeted room you were in.

You exhaled carefully, feeling a modicum of relief. Although it was short lived. You still needed to get out.

Shuffling out of your position from under the desk, you risked a small peek over the table as you checked to make sure the coast was clear.

With the absence of your phone, and none in your office, you realised your next best bet was getting keys. The spare keys, which you just happened to know, were stashed away in the storeroom. The freezing basement cellar, home to all the beers and liquors, in addition to the most extensive sex toy collection in town.

You just needed to get there.

Tiptoeing across the floor, you swung the door open a margin wider as you poked your head out into the corridor. The door to the staff room was wide open, though it was still dark, so you assumed he must be searching in there, given that’s where the strange sound seemed to have come from.

Eyes fixed to the door of the staff room, you crept out of the office, keeping your steps as light as possible as the heels on your feet gently connected with the tiles. The pounding of your heart took over your senses, your head throbbing with the painful stress.

You backed yourself up, heading the opposite direction to the room you hoped he was in. Small, tentative steps as you made your way to the other end of the hallway, to the stairs of the basement.

Quiet. Careful…

“Kitten!”

Your eyes grew wide with fear, a renewed sense of despair claiming you as Hyunjin suddenly appeared before you, walking straight out of the room you had your gaze fixed to. His voice boomed down the hallway, bouncing off the walls as he rested his crazed, blown out pupils on you.

Your flight or fight instinct kicked in, and you ran for your life.

“Why do you run, Y/N? There’s nowhere you can go!”

You knew that. Even if you got the keys now, you wouldn’t be able to get past him to leave through the front door. But you didn’t know what else to do.

Or maybe… you could fight. Find a weapon, something you could use in the storeroom to keep him away. There were enough bottles down there, and sharp shards of glass can be made from those if you know how. Just a quick smash is all it takes, right?

_Keep running._

_Don’t stop._

You swept around the corner, your breaths frantic as you approached the metal stairs to the basement, the sinister snarls and laughs of your pursuer reverberating through the hallway behind you.

Yet your movements were halted as the final snarl appeared all too close.

A firm grip around the back of your neck yanked you backwards just as your foot connected with the first metal step, your head twisted around to meet the gaze of your tormentor.

Your willpower and your urge to fight evaporated.

You’d lost.

“You insist on running from me, kitten. It breaks my heart.”

A quiet sob fell from your lips, the stark issues of your life before all this seeming so trivial. So painfully pointless, now that something so much worse was happening.

Did you deserve this? Is this what happened to people like you? People who were too quick to dismiss the feelings of others, too naive in their words and actions, not giving a second thought to how it might affect someone less stable than themselves? Was this how things… were supposed to be?

“Call me cliche,” he muttered, pursing his lips in thought. “But if I can’t have you, Y/N… No one ever will.”

A gentle, entirely unnatural kiss was pressed to your cheek as Hyunjin took your hand in his. You choked for breath, your sobs worsening as he took hold of the wedding ring that adorned your trembling finger. The last remaining evidence that you were ever married at all, that you were ever loved.

He slid it off with ease, holding the little band up to his vision.

“Fucking thing means nothing anymore. You won’t be needing it.”

With that, he took a single step forwards. He turned you around, all too slowly, your neck still locked in his vice grip, the view of the sharp metal staircase before you blurring with your watering eyes.

Until you were subsequently released from it.

Before you could process what was really happening, your body surged forwards, encouraged with the force of his push. The momentum sent you plunging down the stairs head first, your hands scrambling for purchase on something. Anything.

Yet all you felt was devastating pain.

Metal connecting with your exposed skin as you tumbled down the stairs. Scratches and knocks, your vision spinning with the way your body was being forced into painful, contorted positions as you fell.

And finally, the splitting crack of your head bouncing off concrete as you hit the bottom of the stairs.

Your vision starred, white hot images playing out before you as your head flooded with unnatural, dazing warmth. Your ears rang, your body hurting all over, before the last thing in your blurry, red tinted gaze, was the visage of him. Leering over you from the top of the staircase, your wedding ring being thrown nonchalantly in his hand as he toyed with it like it held no more value than a tennis ball.

“This is such a shame, kitten. Things really, truly, didn’t have to be this way.”

Then blackness.

* * *

##### “Hey, so…”

Changbin sighed, turning to Minho with a questioning look in his eye. “You know about the party tonight, right?”

Minho hummed in response, flicking through the pages of the magazine he was only really half reading. In truth, he hadn’t been able to concentrate since his argument with her.

He knew. That deep down Hyunjin had been looking for a rise out of him. And he despised that that was exactly what he’d got.

All it had taken was a single little comment, a passing observation and a remark about how she should have stayed the night, for his marriage to be thrown into discontent and doubt.

She’d gone to Hyunjin’s place. That alone was enough to make Minho’s blood boil. But more than that, was the unmistakable fact that she hadn’t told him about it. And for the life of him, Minho couldn’t understand why. Had he not proven himself? Had he not shown her that he loved her, more than words could say?

Yes, he’d slipped up. He’d made a mistake. Kissing that client and coming clean about it was one of the hardest things Minho had ever had to do. But where in the line of logic does that mean she was entitled to go to Hyunjin’s place, and talk to him about her problems?

The whole thing was fucked up, on more levels than Minho cared to think about. And thinking was all he seemed to do lately.

About his marriage. About her. About whether he was good enough, despite how many times she’d reassured him he was.

He’d told her he was done. Told her he was finished. That she only heard what she wanted to hear. But that had all been a rash reaction. A spur of the moment incursion to the lies and secrets, to his accidental revelation that he’d watched her night with Hyunjin on the CCTV, all those months ago.

Whether it was married life or simply time getting to him, he’d become complacent. And he was losing the things he cared about with each passing second.

He’d fuck up. She’d fuck up. Rinse and repeat.

“So you’re coming then, right?” Changbin asked, persistent in his questioning despite the blatant ignorance from Minho.

The older sighed, closing the magazine as he tossed it to the staff room table.

“No, Changbin. Why the fuck would I ever want to set foot in that prick’s apartment?”

Changbin rolled his eyes, swinging his legs up to the table as he reclined back in his chair.

“Can’t you two just bury the hatchet? All that shit was so long ago now, plus Y/N seems to be over it. You should just move on.” He stated, inspecting his nails nonchalantly.

“You know what?” Minho replied, his tone firm. “I’m not even about to entertain that with an answer.”

He stood from his seat, sweeping his hands through his hair as he went to leave the room, his temper bubbling beneath the surface.

“It starts at 9! I’ll text you the address!”

“Don’t fucking bother.” Minho snarled, slamming the door shut behind him as he walked away.

He didn’t want to be here. Every single person around him was acting like an idiot, with no regard for his feelings or his wants. His friends, his wife, even his fucking boss. None of them understood.

And there was only one place he wanted to be, when he wanted to be alone.

* * *

##### Minho winced helplessly, the amber liquid warming his insides and doing its’ part to dull his inhibitions as the next whiskey slid down his throat.

This bar was his usual haunt. His place of escape, when he needed to get away from things.

Yet the last time he was here, he’d been very much a single man. Actually, it had been in this very place, at this very seat, where he’d realised just how deep his affections had run for the woman he now called his wife.

Funny how things change.

“Refill?” The girl behind the bar asked, already holding the half empty bottle of whiskey like an inciting temptation.

“Sure.”

She flashed him a too wide smile, tipping the bottle upside down as she refilled the glass in Minho’s hand. He smiled back, trying not to let the weight on his heart affect his outward appearance.

But he couldn’t do it. The hurt ran too deep. The confusion was too great for him to focus on anything other than the need to drown the things he was feeling.

If he could drown them at all.

Maybe… this was the wrong way to do things. Maybe being here was causing more damage than he knew. Maybe talking to her, just once more, would help to heal this suffocating sensation of pain that he just couldn’t seem to dull with alcohol anymore.

Sighing under his breath in tired resolve, he slid the still full glass of whiskey back to the polished surface of the bar, grabbing his wallet from his pocket and tossing a few notes to the counter.

It was time to try a different approach.

* * *

##### The helpless pounding of his heart threatened to deafen him as he approached the front door to his own home.

She had to be back. Chan had closed the club early, all thanks to the ridiculous party that was happening later, and if she wasn’t there, she was almost definitely here.

Fishing his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door, taking a deep, heavy breath as he stepped inside the familiar surroundings. His home with her. The life they’d built together. It was nothing lavish, by any means, but it was theirs. And that made it more than enough.

Or at least, it used to be.

Kicking off his shoes, he padded over the carpet of the living room, down the hallway to the bedroom. Opening the door, his gaze found her, arms searching the wardrobe in front of her as she appeared to be getting changed.

She looked exhausted. The bags and creases under her usually bright eyes only having gotten worse since the last time he’d seen her.

“Oh… I didn’t think you’d be home.” He mumbled, dragging his eyes away from her.

That was a lie. He’d known she was here. He’d hoped she would be, it was the only reason he’d come home at all.

Clamouring, desperate suggestions skipped through his head, things he wanted to say, attempts he wanted to make in an effort to start fixing their broken relationship.

_Why don’t we just talk?_

_How about a movie? Like old times?_

_Let’s go get a drink. Just the two of us._

“I’m not staying long.”

Her simple, deadpan reply sent a surge of pain through Minho, instantly silencing every thought he conjured. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, the hopes that he’d had of trying to reconcile disappearing just as quickly as they’d formed.

Honestly, what had he expected? He’d been the one to tell her he was done.

“Okay.”

He fought the urge to just take her in his arms, bombard her with wordless apologies and forget everything, as he instead opted to unbutton his shirt, slinking it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He busied himself with something else. Anything else. Anything to get away from this deathly tension.

Grabbing a towel from the cupboard, he promptly left the room, making a beeline for the bathroom as he left her to her own devices.

The party, Minho surmised. She must be going to the party. _His_ fucking party. After everything they’d argued about, she still had the audacity to show her face there.

Were her feelings changing? Was she… falling for someone else? For _him_?

The moment the door closed behind him, the facade fell. The pretence broke.

Turning the faucets on full blast, drowning out the sound of his quiet sobs with the clashing rush of water, he allowed himself a moment of weakness. Because the prodding feeling that he’d been losing her all along was now painfully apparent.

And it was only getting worse.

* * *

##### “Well… look what the cat dragged in,” the halfway attractive girl behind the bar crooned upon Minho’s entrance.

His second one of the night, coincidentally.

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be back so soon either.” He muttered, sliding into his usual spot of the stool beside the bar.

He didn’t need to look up at the girl to know that she was giving him _that_ look. The knowing look that someone who didn’t actually know adopted, when they thought they knew.

Because she didn’t. And Minho was glad of that. He didn’t want to talk about any of the things that had gone wrong in his life, or the things he was feeling, and much less to a fucking stranger.

All he wanted, was to drink. Alone.

And as if his thoughts had been spoken aloud, a crystal clear glass of his favourite, high end whiskey appeared in front of him. Courtesy of the girl who didn’t know.

Minho raised an eyebrow, his fingers finding the glass as he swirled the liquid around inside.

“This one’s on the house,” she smiled, bringing her hair to one side of her shoulder as she leaned across the bar, cleavage and pearly white teeth on full display.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked, bringing the drink to his lips and taking a small, much needed sip.

“No occasion,” she replied, twirling a strand of dark brown hair around her manicured finger, fluttering her eyelashes far too heavily for it to be a natural gesture. She was flirting so hard Minho almost wanted to fall off his seat.

“I just figured you needed it. Being here and all. You don’t come around for months, then suddenly twice in one night?”

Minho nodded, a halfhearted gesture that only acknowledged the bleak reality of the whole thing.

“Rough day?” She asked, clearly prodding for details.

“Yeah. Rough.” Minho replied, knocking back the last of the whiskey, hissing through his teeth as he gestured for a refill.

The girl grabbed the bottle from behind the bar, eyes fixed to Minho as she poured, until they flitted to his hand holding the glass. In particular, his finger.

“You’re married?” She asked, the question almost coming out as an accusation rather than one born of genuine curiosity.

Technically, he was. In practice? The status could easily be debated.

So he simply nodded in response, sliding his hand off the bar, concealing it in his pocket and stowing away the only physical indication that he was otherwise taken. Not that that seemed to be putting her off.

“She’s a lucky lady… whoever she is.”

Minho scoffed under his breath, his eyes narrowing helplessly.

“Is she?”

“Sure!” She replied, a look of mock offence on her face. “I mean, damn. Look at you.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Minho quipped in response, not in the least bit surprised at her forwardness. After all, she didn’t know him. She just saw what she wanted to see. The gorgeous, brooding, lonely married man who just _might_ be in need of a ‘friend’.

“I doubt that…” She purred, taking her lip between her teeth as her eyes laved over him. “I feel like I could figure you out pretty easily.”

“Oh?”

He cocked his head at her, suddenly intrigued by the challenge. Yet he couldn’t help but be reminded of _her_. Looks and killer figure aside, her attitude and general tenacity had been what Minho was initially attracted to.

He almost missed that.

Bringing the glass to his lips once more, he finished the remainder of the whiskey, the beginnings of the buzz it brought him sending tingles through his nerves and his head into a gentle fuzz. Had this girl… always been this attractive?

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned over the bar, eyes dark and piercing as he held his face mere centimetres from hers.

“Why don’t you try me then, angel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
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	8. Chapter 8

##### The ruffled sounds of gathering material resounded through the darkness.

Soft whines and rasped breaths, interrupted only by the intermittent sound of moisture laden kisses.

Minho was hot. Frustrated. His desires bubbling under the surface, his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans too hard for it to be anything other than painful. 

His head was spinning. Too far gone for him to create or pick out a single coherent thought other than the ones his sex drive were conjuring.

Because those thoughts were tangible. They were a feeling, one so profound and all-consuming that the consequences of what he was doing, of what he was about to do, were the furthest thing from his mind.

She was soft. Warm to touch, like cotton under his fingers as he ran his hands over her bare body, her shirt hiked up to her chest and her skirt gathered at her waist. He had her pressed against the wall, his thigh stuffed between her legs, tensing just enough to give her the friction she wanted in between the mess of kisses and clashing of teeth.

But she was unfamiliar. She didn’t know what Minho wanted, and she simply didn’t sound the same. Didn’t react the same.

It was throwing him off.

“T- touch me… here-” She murmured. Her breath was that of salted peanuts and liquor, it was nothing but unsettling as she took hold of Minho’s wrist, guiding it to her clothed sex.

She was soaking, dripping through the material of her panties… Yet Minho didn’t find it arousing. Rather, he saw it as nothing more than a reaction to his advances. This, he knew, was simply what happened when you touched a girl like that. His arousal was coming from a place of inherent frustration, a vice that he needed to expel if he hoped to stay sane.

It had always worked before.

But when it happened with _her_ … when he felt the way she wanted him so badly, safe in the knowledge that he was the one that had driven her to that state? There was not a thing more utterly fucking erotic. Nothing set Minho harder than the sight of her, needy and eager to be filled by him. Because _she_ was his.

His beautiful wife. Who was probably halfway to getting plastered by now.

He missed her. Wondered what she was doing, who she was with at that ruinous party, his muscles tensing with the thought, much to the delight of the bar girl he was currently working over.

Sharp pangs of reality began to set in, all too bleak for Minho to be able to handle. Images of her face flashed before him. Of her tear strewn cheeks, her usually bright eyes dulled and defeated when she’d found out that Minho had kissed another. It hurt like nothing else ever could.

“Fuck!” He groaned in frustration, shoving himself away from the writhing girl whose name he still hadn’t caught.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?!”

Yet again, he was indulging. Partaking in the one thing that had caused this mess in the first place. His inability to remain loyal, his crushing need to satisfy his own desires taking over before he could stop. It was toxic, and the promiscuity was utterly involuntary.

“Minho?” The girl breathed, clearly conscious that she’d done something wrong.

Yet another thing to make him feel like shit about.

“I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Without giving himself a chance to rethink anything, he willed his legs to move, making a beeline for the back door.

He burst through it into street, the cold outside air acting as a rude awakening to his lust fueled daze, the weight on his heart only lightening a little with the knowledge that at least he’d stopped himself before anything too adulterous could occur.

Though he had no doubt that she wouldn’t see it that way. Because he’d fucked up. Again.

**_*ring ring*_ **

**_*ring ring*_ **

The shrill ringing of his phone shocked him out of his internal battle, vibrating in his back pocket like an unwanted annoyance. He hoped beyond hope for a moment that it might be her, as if she’d somehow known that he was slipping through some unspoken telepathy, and so he quickly pulled his phone from his back pocket, answering the call without bothering to check the ID.

“Yes, hello?”

_“Minho?”_

“Ch- Changbin? Why are you calling me?”

_“Uh… well, listen. I think there’s something going on.”_

The tone of Changbin’s voice and the underlying nuance to them gave Minho an instant shake, stopping him on the spot. An immediate reaction to something unheard that filled him with helpless dread.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you at the party?”

_“Yeah, I’m at the party. Y/N’s here too.”_

So she had gone. Minho’s heart sank, though he’d known that was the case before he’d even had that confirmation.

_“But something’s not right, man.”_

“What’s not right?”

_“Well… uh, I’m not sure how to-”_

“Changbin, for fuck sake, spit it out!” Minho snarled, his patience wearing paper thin.

_“We were playing a game! It was just a fucking game. A stupid one. Jisung’s idea, of course. Uh, anyway… Hyunjin and Y/N, they… they kinda argued. I think? I’m not sure what happened but, it basically ended with Y/N walking out of it. I thought she’d left… but-”_

Minho’s heart only quickened in pace the more Changbin spoke. The onset of so many emotions ready to explode at any second.

“But what?!”

_“I just saw them come out of the cloak cupboard, man. I asked people and apparently someone saw him shove her in there. Like, not by her own will. And she did not look good when she got out, she’s been drinking and she’s-”_

“Is she drunk? Did he touch her?!” Minho asked, her safety suddenly being the only thing that took precedence.

 _“Yeah, she’s pretty far gone. She’s been drinking straights as far as I can tell. And I don’t know for certain what happened between them, but apparently they were in there for too fucking long._ _I tried to talk to her…”_

His voice trailed off, as if hesitating with his next words.

“And?" Minho beckoned.

A heavy sigh from the end of the phone indicated a resignation to the truth, one that even Changbin couldn’t bear to speak.

 _”She just told me she was scared, Minho. Of him. Hyunjin. She wants to go home, but he took her off somewhere before I could get any more out of her._ _“_

"Scared? Where is she now? Do you know where she is? She’s okay?”

Rampant panic was taking over, Minho unable to put a stop to the rising rage as immediate questions spilled out.

_“She’s in one piece, if that’s what you mean. But Hyunjin’s got her stuck to him like a-”_

“I need you to get her away from him. Changbin, please, or I’ll come over there myself and destroy that fucking creep.”

_“Look, I don’t think starting trouble is a good idea. He’s a big guy, and the others are half fucking soaped. They won’t be any help.”_

“Just get her out of there!” He exclaimed, his volume rising. “I swear to god if he laid a fucking finger on her, I’ll break his goddamn neck-”

_“Minho! Hey, relax… I got you. I’ll take her home, make an excuse, whatever. I’ll think of something. Don’t stress.”_

There was a silence from the end of the phone before he spoke again.

_“But, listen, I don’t think Hyunjin’s… okay. He’s like… kinda obsessed? He never leaves her side. Even I’ve noticed that he’s acting weird, and that’s saying a lot. It’s not like Y/N to scare easily, you know that. There’s definitely something up.”_

“Yeah. I know,” Minho muttered. “That cunt is the reason we’re so estranged right now. Ever since he got back to town things have just gone to shit.”

 _“Well, isn’t there something we can do?”_ Changbin asked, concern clear in his question.

Minho paused, mind racing a thousand thoughts a second as the anger in him simmered at the edges of his self control. It was taking everything he had not to lose his mind and crash that party with a baseball bat, Hyunjin’s name written all over it.

“There is something we can do. I’m putting a fucking end to this. Look, just… take her home. Make sure she’s safe. I’m gonna make my way to your place now, and we’ll go over the plan.”

 _“Plan? There’s a plan?”_ Changbin scoffed.

“There will be.” He replied, sweeping his hair off his face as he tried to still his eccentric breaths.

_“Fine. Leave things here to me, then. I’ll see you later.”_

“Okay. Oh, and uh… Changbin?”

A grunt came from the end of the phone in response, the raucous sounds of the party flooding through the speaker.

“Don’t say anything to her. And… thank you for this. I, uh… I appreciate it.”

 _“Gross.”_ He quipped, quickly ending the call as Minho simply laughed in disbelief.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, his pace quickening as he headed down the street, conjuring up too many different things and ways to put a lid on Hyunjin’s activities. Murder would be too drastic a stretch, although not entirely undeserved.

“Minho! You can’t just leave me hanging like that!”

He tensed with the sound of the screeching protest from the girl that, for some bewildering reason, had decided it was a good idea to follow him out of the bar. As if he’d go back on his rejection now. 

Minho turned to face her, his expression rife with renewed resolve.

“This was a mistake. My wife… she needs me.”

* * *

##### “Fucking finally…”

Minho whined, shivering desperately as the freezing midnight air nipped at his bare arms.

“Sorry!” Changbin called, jogging down the street, keys in his hand as he unlocked the door to his place and stepped inside.

Minho followed, shaking out the cold that had set into his bones thanks to the long wait for Changbin to get here.

“So how is she? She’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, man. She’s fine. Hammered, but fine. And home safe and sound. I put her to bed, made sure she was asleep before I left.” Changbin replied, tossing his jacket to the sofa as he headed through to the kitchen.

Minho raised an eyebrow, the prospect of another man putting his intoxicated wife to bed not sitting entirely well with him.

“Ugh, please. Don’t even. She’s basically my mother.” Changbin quipped, rolling his eyes as he picked up on the disapproving expression, returning from the kitchen with two beers in his hand.

“Did you give her water?” Minho asked, settling on the sofa as he took one of the bottles from him.

“What? No! She’s an adult, she drank. She’ll survive the hangover. Don’t think I could have if I’d even wanted to, she was babbling the whole time.”

Minho glared at him, popping open the bottle and bringing it to his lips as he sank into the cushions. He knew he should be grateful that Changbin had taken her home at all, but he knew how bad she was when she was sick. All she’d want was to be coddled and looked after, self inflicted illness or not. But Minho wouldn’t be there to do that for her this time.

“So,” Changbin sighed, grabbing one of the chairs from his dining table and spinning it in his hand as he straddled it backwards. “You said something about a plan?”

Minho nodded, leaning forward on his knees, both hands grasping the frosty glass bottle as if it would help him piece his thoughts together somehow.

“Well… I have half a plan. And honestly, I’m not sure it’s going to work. I also feel like if Y/N finds out, she’ll never forgive us. Or, me, more specifically.”

Changbin cocked his head, admittedly intrigued.

“So we know Hyunjin’s not himself, right? We know that he’s got some kind of fucking obsession with my wife, and she’s scared of him. He also seems intent on ruining my marriage and everything in between if he can. So we need to draw that out of him.”

“Draw it out of him? Like a fucking rattlesnake?” Changbin asked.

“Yeah… sure. Like a rattlesnake.” Minho replied, deciding that going with that analogy was wiser than trying to dispute it if he had any hopes of Changbin following along. “We set a trap for the prick. With Y/N as the incentive. If he really _is_ as far gone as we think he is, he won’t be able to help himself. We get the whole thing on film, and voila, he’s bang to rights.”

“Okay…” Changbin mused, pursing his lips in thought. “And how exactly do you plan to trap him? He won’t fit in a wicker basket.”

Minho sighed, chugging a sip from the bottle in his hand. The analogy was definitely a bad idea.

“That’s… the bit I’m not sure on. The most important thing is that we need _evidence._ If we don’t have that, the whole thing’s fucked. And I won’t do it if I don’t know for sure that she’s safe. I won’t put her in danger.”

“So, we need,” Changbin stated, holding his fingers up in turn as he tried to summarise things. “One, somewhere we can trap him. Two, somewhere we can film him. And three, those places have to be safe her to be in?”

Minho nodded, the insanity of this whole thing seeming more impossible by the second. Now that they were talking about it out loud, it just seemed like they’d never be able to pull it off.

Changbin pursed his lips in thought, before breaking the silence that had settled in.

“Hey, why don’t we get Chan in on this?” He asked, clearing his throat as he took a sip of his own beer.

“Chan?!” Minho scoffed, shaking his head. “No way. He’s so far up Hyunjin’s ass he knows how he tastes. He’d never agree.”

“No, he would. If he knows that Hyunjin is more of a threat to Y/N and the club than he is a benefit, he’ll want him out. No question.”

Changbin crooned forwards in his seat, eyes growing wider as the cogs began to turn, shaking themselves free of the cobwebs they’d no doubt collected.

“And…” he hissed, “Chan can give us the place we need, dude. Think about it!”

Minho met his gaze, a small surge of hope bubbling as they seemed to share a telepathic moment of realisation. This could work.

Maybe… just maybe, this wasn’t as impossible as it had first seemed.

* * *

##### *ring ring*

“Hey.”

_“Hi, uh… I’m just… just calling to see when you’re getting to work?”_

The sound of her voice made Minho’s heart ache. She sounded nothing but tired. Fragile. He’d detected the way her voice broke, even though he knew she was probably trying her hardest to keep herself together. Any trace of anger Minho might have felt with what had supposedly happened at the party had well and truly evaporated, replaced only with an irreverent need to protect her.

And that was exactly what he intended to do.

“I’ll be there soon. Is everything okay?”

_“Yeah… yeah, it’s fine. I just need your help with something. I’ll see you soon then?”_

“Sure.”

And with that, the call was ended.

Minho released a deep, stabilising sigh, shoving his phone back to his pocket.

“She okay?” Chan asked, his voice woven with concern.

Minho shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sunk back to the plush leather cushions that lined the sofa, once again questioning everything they’d concocted.

“No. She’s not. But she will be.”

Chan pursed his lips, turning his attention back to the monitors in front of him.

Changbin had been right. Getting Chan involved had been the only thing that gave them a realistic chance of pulling this off. His resources and commitment made this entirely possible, and Minho was nothing but grateful for his help, despite the convincing it had taken to get him on board.

“You know…” Chan half laughed, clicking through the cameras on the screens in front of him. “She’d lose her fucking shit if she knew about this.”

“I know. But what else am I supposed to do? He’ll haunt her forever if we don’t put an end to the freak.”

“No,” Chan replied, casting a glance over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean the plan, although, she would lose her shit with that. I meant this-”

He gestured to the screens in front of him, the black and white flickering visions of every single room in the club on display for them to watch. The taboo CCTV that she’d convinced him to get rid of, and that he’d assured her he had. Because technically… he did. He’d had the cameras taken down, thrown out, and the whole system wiped.

He’d just neglected to mention that he’d replaced it with a whole new one, tucked away in the newly installed secret space in his office, where they were currently hiding out.

Initially, Chan had intended for it to be used as a makeshift safe. Somewhere he could keep all the legal documents, money, keys, anything that required that little bit of extra security.

Yet despite those initial intentions, it had somehow been turned into his very own man-cave. Easily accessible via the conveniently elusive bookcase door in his office, it was the perfect panic room. That he’d never needed to use, until now.

“Yeah. She would lose her shit.” Minho smiled, an action with not an ounce of genuine happiness behind it. Just the simple thought of her little tendencies and the things she held so dearly was enough to make him smile.

“I don’t need to tell you that this could go _very_ badly wrong, do I?” Chan asked, pointing out the obvious once again.

“You don’t,” Minho replied, brushing off his jeans as he stood from the sofa. “But you know what you need to do, right?”

Chan nodded, reaffirming his conviction.

“Get her in the play room. Lock her in. Call Hyunjin. Then we wait.”

“Right,” Minho sighed, sweeping his hand through his hair. “As soon as I’m done with this, I’ll come straight back here.”

Turning away from Chan, he pushed on the back of the bookcase door as he went to leave, the weight on his tired heart even heavier than before.

“Minho?” Chan called, stopping him in his tracks. “Do we… have to hurt her like this?”

Minho knew. He knew that what he was about to do was the most vindictive thing he ever would. He wondered if he’d be able to go through with it. When she broke down, would he be able to stay strong? To keep up the facade?

He couldn’t be sure. Not until he was there, in front of her, telling her that he wanted a divorce. The whole crux of this plan was weighted on this moment, because she needed to believe it. And she wouldn’t unless she could _feel_ it.

So Minho would have to be as cruel as he could. Even if it meant she’d never forgive him. At least she’d be safe when this was all over.

“This won’t take long.” He replied, his words barely an utterance as he left the room.

This was the right thing to do. It had to be.

* * *

##### Stepping into her office, Minho was instantly reminded of the fonder times they’d had here.

The lunches they shared together. The moments of weakness they’d had for each other where they simply couldn’t contain their desires for fear they’d explode.

But he couldn’t linger for long. He didn’t have time.

He jogged over to her desk, eyes searching frantically for the thing he needed. He’d only been told it existed by Changbin, and Changbin only knew about it because he’d seen it on her desk, entirely by chance.

A small crimson invitation card made especially for her, despite the fact Minho was almost one hundred percent sure Hyunjin would have told her he’d given them to everyone. Just another piece of evidence that signified his sick obsession, although that wasn’t what Minho needed it for.

He huffed in frustration as he failed to find it on the desk, when his eyes landed on the familiar sight of her work blazer, draped over the back of her chair. He quickly grabbed it, rifling through the pockets.

_Thank fuck._

A small sense of relief rushed over him as he found what he’d been looking for, the little red card imprinted with a date, time, Hyunjin’s address, and much more vitally than that… his mobile number.

“Hi…”

The gentle sound of her tired voice echoed through the room, and Minho visibly fought to control the fright it gave him as he nonchalantly threw the blazer back to her chair, praying she hadn’t noticed when he slipped the card into his back pocket.

“Hi.” He replied, keeping his tone as stable as he could.

“You got here quick…” She mused, eyes wide and staring as they bore deep under Minho’s skin.

He wanted to hold her. Embrace her. Tell her everything would be okay, and that this would all be over soon. Yet he couldn’t. Not just yet. There were greater things at stake.

“Yeah, well, you said it was urgent. So what’s up?”

She sat at her desk, her form and entire demeanour seeming all the more fragile with each passing moment. Minho’s resolve cracked the longer he looked at her, like a mirror threatening to break. She didn’t look like she had the most basic bit of strength in her body, let alone the capacity to deal with what was about to happen.

“Oh, uh… I,” she began, shifting awkwardly in her seat. “So Jisung and Seungmin used the play room last night, and we basically need to set it back to a presentable state before Chan gets here. I just… I needed your help.”

That certainly was a surprise, and not something he’d anticipated. Trust the boys to be fucking horndogs.

“What were they doing in the play room in the first place, weren’t we closed last night? Or is that another thing I was neglected to be informed of?” He replied, his tone firm.

“We were closed, Minho. I don’t know how they got in, presumably they swiped the keys. I guess they came here after the party.”

_Here it was._

“Ah, right,” Minho sighed, crossing his legs elegantly as he reclined into the chair. “The party. How was it, by the way?”

She hesitated, swallowing hard. Minho knew everything, yet it was almost interesting to see her battle with her feelings like this. She clearly still cared, not that he’d ever doubted she didn’t, but seeing it like this made it so much more… real.

“It was fine.”

_She’s lying. Playing it off._

“Just fine?” He asked.

“Y- yes. Just fine. Nothing special.”

_Keep it up. Get her to tell you._

“Did you get drunk?”

“Yeah. I did. I had a bad day yesterday, sue me.” She replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. He was wearing her down.

“So you were hammered. And the party was still just fine?” Minho asked again, persistent in his questioning.

“Minho, I-”

Another moment of hesitation. Her eyes were watering, her body tense as her shoulders remained raised by a few inches, just enough to tell Minho that she was breaking. The sight was almost enough to cause him to break first. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Maybe there was another way to do this. Maybe he didn’t need to hurt her so badly, force her to admit to what had happened with Hyunjin, fake a whole divorce and-

“Hyunjin, he… he got me off last night.”

Minho’s breath caught in his throat. Hearing it like this was so much more shattering than he’d anticipated.

And he’d come too far to back down now.

_Showtime._

* * *

##### Minho was a mess.

And he’d been right.

That was way too hard. He almost hadn’t gone through with it. The way she’d sobbed. Begged for him not to leave her, to give her another chance.

_“Don’t… don’t let me g- go…”_

It was the most haunting of melodies, crawling under his skin and setting tears to their escape. He’d certainly made her believe he was through with their marriage, the effect his performance had being almost too much for her to bear. The pure devastation on her face had told him that.

But she had to believe it. Because if she didn’t, Hyunjin never would. He was uncannily perceptive, and would see straight through it. She’d always been a hopeless liar.

He marched back to Chan’s panic room as quickly as he could, fishing the small crimson card he’d swiped from her blazer out of his pocket. Focusing his mind on the task at hand, he steeled himself, forcing the regrets and heartache to a darker place. He couldn’t afford to stop now.

He shoved his way through Chan’s office door, closing it behind him and approaching the faux bookcase. He pushed it carefully, his expression as dark as thunder when his friend turned to greet him.

“It went well then…?” Chan sighed, his face contorted with sympathy as he saw the very apparent state of his friend.

Minho shook his head, slumping to the sofa as anger began to grip him. This was all Hyunjin’s fault. Everything. All the pain and sadness, the resentment and lies…

“She believed it, if that’s what you mean. _Fuck!_ ” He growled, punching the seat beside him in pure frustration, pissed off with himself for an ever growing number of reasons that didn’t seem like they’d end.

“Hey… it’ll be okay. It’s just temporary. You know that.” Chan soothed, doing his best to bring him down.

“I’ll kill that son of a bitch, Chan. I swear to god, I’ll rip his goddamn head off if I ever see him again.”

“Okay… okay. Well, before that, we need to put the next phase into action. Make the call.”

Minho nodded, holding the crimson card between his thumb and forefinger as he yanked his phone from his pocket.

He inputted the number, digit by digit, his hands shaking indiscriminately as he eventually tapped the call button. Handing the card to his friend, Chan quickly inputted the number to his own phone, saving the contact.

“Who doesn’t give their number out these days anyway?” Chan mused under his breath, more to himself. “Can’t believe we missed that glaring red flag.”

Minho controlled his breaths as the phone rang against his ear, every decibel sending waves of anticipation through his nerves as he jiggled his leg impatiently.

“Come on, pick up you fucking-”

_“Hello?”_

The simple sound of his greeting made Minho’s blood boil. But he had to stay collected. As best he could, anyway.

“Hyunjin?”

_“Who is this?”_

“It’s Minho.”

A short pause, before a dumbfounded exhalation of air came through the phone.

_“How did you get this number?”_

“Does it matter? This won’t take long.” Minho spat, failing miserably at concealing his hatred. “I just called to congratulate you.”

_“Congratulate?”_

“Yeah. You’ve single-handedly ruined my marriage. Not quite sure how you managed it, but it seems I’m no longer enough for her.”

Another pause.

_“Wh- What?”_

“Y/N and I… we’re through. I’m seeing a lawyer in the morning. I can’t deal with the back and forth between the two of you, and quite frankly, I’m not into sloppy seconds. Whatever happened last night must have been fucking front page news worthy, because she doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

_“B- But… she… did she say she wants that? She wants me?”_

He seemed to be in a state of disbelief, and Minho wasn’t sure what to make of that. As if the idea of them actually breaking up was one that Hyunjin hadn’t ever dared to think possible.

“I don’t know what the fuck she wants. Either way… it’s over. So well done. Congratu-fucking-lations.”

He quickly ended the call, launching the phone to the other end of the sofa as he swept his hands through his hair, gripping at the roots. That had taken every bit of willpower he had, and admittedly, that was now running in desperately short supply.

“That was good. Think he bought it?” Chan asked, turning back to the cameras.

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.” Minho replied, rolling his shoulders out with the tension.

“Think that’s my cue then, no?” Chan smiled, shrugging off his jacket and cracking his knuckles, as if preparing for the storm to come.

And a storm it surely would be.

* * *

##### Minho’s lids were too heavy, his eyes too dry as they remained utterly fixed to the flickering visions on the screens in front of him.

She was in her office. He knew that for certain, because she hadn’t come out yet. The door remained open barely an inch, just as she always had it. Minho supposed that was more of a signalling habit she’d developed over her time working at the club. A closed door felt too much like a barrier, whereas an open one, even if it was just an inch, could be considered an invitation.

It was typical of how her brain worked. Because that was just the kind of person she was. Selfless, painfully naive and loyal to a fault. Most of the time.

Minho blinked slowly, eyes glued to the screens, flitting between each one as he kept an eye out for Chan, the next phase of the plan being put into place.

He was to get her into the play room. Somehow. Minho had no real doubt that he’d be able to do it, but the reassurances that Chan had given him did nothing to ease the nagging that played at the back of his head.

Because despite how much they’d planned and anticipated, there remained every chance that this could still go horrendously wrong.

Minho straightened in his seat as the top of Chan’s head just came into view, walking down the corridor nonchalantly. He stopped in front of her office, bouncing on his feet for a moment as he appeared to be psyching himself up. Minho knew he was going to burst in and use the state of the play room the boys had used as the leverage he needed, wearing the last remnants of her willpower down. The newfound knowledge offered a last minute adjustment to the plan that they could use to their advantage, but Minho couldn’t shake the seeping guilt it was causing.

Given the state he’d left her in, he doubted she’d need much more breaking down before she could be convinced to do anything, much less to go to the play room.

But Chan entered the room anyway, doing his part, just as he’d promised he would.

Minho took his thumbnail between his teeth, another nervous habit he’d picked up from her, leaning forward in his seat as he watched the door to her office like he was waiting for it to breathe.

And in barely any time at all, they appeared.

Chan’s arm around her waist, hers around his shoulders, he supported her weight as he led her out of the room. That had been almost too easy, but Minho’s heart simply wrenched at the sight of her. She looked terribly small in Chan’s arms.

They shuffled down the corridor outside her office, past the staff room, past Chan’s office where Minho remained hidden, and out into the main bar.

Minho followed them on the screens, gaze never wavering as she was taken to her destination. Chan seemed to be speaking, but Minho couldn’t quite make out the words, and he didn’t dare attempt to turn up the volume on the damn thing for fear of breaking something. Their whole plan rested on this piece of equipment.

Minho’s eyes flashed from left to right, taking in every screen, the nail between his teeth being worn down more by the second as Chan carried her through the large double doors and down the hallway of the play rooms.

Straight to Minho’s old room.

The tragic irony of it all made Minho want to laugh and scream simultaneously. He wondered whose idea that had been. Chan’s, or hers?

Chan unlocked the door, carrying her inside. He placed her on the bed, allowing her to sit down and collect herself as he sank down to his knees in front of her, saying something that Minho could only assume to be gentle reassurances of safety and plenty of rest. Or at least, that’s what he hoped.

Seeming satisfied, and checking the room over once more, Chan placed an affectionate kiss to the top of her head, leaving her alone. He locked the door behind him, and Minho finally remembered how to breathe.

He sat back in his chair, taking a moment to close his eyes and control his inhalations of oxygen, steadying himself.

The trap was set. The bait, his wife. Vulnerable, unprotected as far as she knew, all the while being watched by the husband she now hated.

Despite how enthusiastic Minho had initially been about this, his determination had begun to crumble the moment he’d played at tearing out her heart. The very real possibility that she might not forgive him for this had started to sink in, and he found himself wondering if the prospect of her not wanting to be with him, after everything he’d done to protect her, made this worth it.

The sound of the bookcase scraping across the floor behind Minho pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Chan enter the stuffy room.

“It went well then?” Minho asked, repeating his friends question from earlier.

“Yeah,” he nodded, tossing his phone from his hand to the small desk. “But, she’s not doing so good. Just so you know. She wanted to go to your room.”

“So it was her idea.” He mumbled, his heart once again throbbing with adoration. She probably just wanted to be close. Despite the pain he’d just inflicted on her, she _still_ wanted him nearby, even in such small a measure as that.

“You know… I don’t know if this is such a good idea anymore, Chan. Maybe we should just call this whole thing off. I’ll go to her, apologise, maybe we can-”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Chan snarled, placing a firm hand on his friends shoulder. “You know as well as I do, that it’s too late to go back now. And besides, I just made the call. He’s on his way.”

Minho’s eyes widened, a lump forming in his throat as the prospect of his wife being used like a chunk of meat to satisfy a slavering lion made his hair stand on end. What had he been thinking?

“When… when did you call him?”

“On my way back from the play room, idiot. Didn’t think you’d want to hear that conversation.” Chan replied.

He shook his head, panic building with the encroaching event. He was coming.

“What did you even tell him?”

“What do you think?!” Chan half yelled, doing his best to keep his temper under control. “I told him exactly what you wanted me to! Asked him to come by, look after her and the club, because no one else was available and I had somewhere else to be. I told him the key to the play room was on my desk, only to be used if she needed anything. Okay?”

“Fuck-” Minho growled, slumping back into the chair as he held his head in his hands.

“Look,” Chan sighed, moving to stand in front of him. “There’s no guarantee that Hyunjin will even do anything. We don’t know for sure. We just need to watch, and wait. Maybe he’ll surprise us, and we’ll look like the biggest pricks in town. Hm?”

Chan’s words fell on deaf ears. As much as Minho wanted all that to be true, the growing pit in his stomach told him otherwise. Waves of intuitive dread claimed him, a foreboding prophecy of what was to come.

This wasn’t going to end well. Someone was going to get hurt.

And if it was her, he’d die.

* * *

##### “I can’t fucking do this, Chan. I’m going out there-”

“Changbin! Hold him down or something, this is exactly the fucking footage we need to get this creep locked up.”

Changbin had shown up a few moments before Hyunjin, ushering into the panic room much to Chan’s relief. He’d needed support. Someone to back him up, because as of the second Hyunjin had walked through the door of the club, Minho had been rendered totally useless.

Helpless tensity had set into his bones as soon as the tall boy had shown up on the cameras. He’d started pacing around, muttering under his breath as Changbin attempted to talk him down when Hyunjin collected the conveniently placed key to the play room from Chan’s desk.

He’d punched the wall with all the force he could muster when Hyunjin actually entered the play room, slinking into the locked room and approaching his sleeping wife.

“This is fucking insane, I’m ending this right now!” He’d shouted, threatening to expose their whole mission as Chan came dangerously close to slapping him back to his senses.

And now, Changbin was doing his utmost to physically restrain Minho, as Hyunjin played dress up with her before their very eyes. He’d pulled back the satin sheets that covered her, disappearing into the back room before reappearing with a selection of black lace lingerie.

As if she was simply a mannequin placed in the room for his amusement, he’d began to slide the stockings over her legs. Placed stiletto heels on her feet, before binding her wrists in cuffs to the bedposts, careful never to move too quickly or harshly. The latent exhaustion that plagued her had been enough to keep her asleep, more effective than almost a drug itself.

Minho was losing his mind. Every piece of him was screaming with unadulterated rage and hatred, wanting nothing more than to burst into that room and shatter Hyunjin’s bones to pieces.

“Let me the _fuck_ out of here! I’ll kill you too if you don’t let me-”

“Guys, quiet! Minho, get a fucking hold of yourself! She’s waking up… she’s awake.” Chan pointed out, his eyes glued to the live feed of the Angel room.

“Move!” Minho snarled, shoving Changbin out of his way as he moved in front of the screens. He was as flush to it as he could get, watching every single motion she made and everything Hyunjin did, trying to anticipate the next move. The first sign of danger, the first tiny little inkling that she was no longer safe, he’d take a bat to this whole place. No question.

“What’s happening, what are they saying?” Changbin asked, hand resting on Minho’s shoulder in a vain attempt to calm him as he moved over to them.

“Just a sec-” Chan mumbled, flipping with small dials and switches before a gentle stuttering croaked through the speakers on the table.

_“Whatever you’re think- of doi-, I can - - - you it’s a m- take.”_

Her voice resounded through the room, glitching and unstable, but still enough to make Minho reel with a hundred different emotions.

“Why does she sound like that? Can’t you fix it?” Minho snarled, too eager to hear what was being said.

“Dude, it’s a fucking camera system, not a Bang and Olufsen setup. This is as good as it’s going to get.”

Minho bit back the snarky response on his tongue, leaning closer to the screens as if that would help him hear better.

“Turn it up,” he commanded, gesturing at the dial.

_“You don’t - - do you? The tr- ble you’ve - - me?”_

“Trouble? Did he just say trouble?” Changbin asked, his ears pricking.

Minho shook his head, raising a finger to indicate for him to be quiet as he watched Hyunjin drag his fingers over her body. This was quickly becoming too much.

_“The sleepless nights and - - - dreams… Dreams of fuck- - -, claiming you… over, and - - , and over again, making you scre- that sweet - - - that comes from that - - little mouth…”_

“Jesus. He really is insane…” Chan muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Minho began to hyperventilate, the broken words falling on his ears like an intoxicating, rage inducing drug he’d never wanted. He’d known all along that Hyunjin had been broken. But the extent of his delusions was beyond anything he’d feared.

_“What the f- are you talk- ab-”_

Minho watched as Hyunjin approached one of the corner drawers in the room. His heartbeat quickened.

_“I’m talk- - - the way you- changed me, kitten. The man - - turned me into.”_

Chan risked a peek over his shoulder, catching Minho’s line of sight as he nodded at him in reassurance.

“Its okay. Just a bit longer, we’ll have everything we need soon. She’s okay.” He stated, his tone firm but soft as he saw the internal battle going on in Minho’s eyes.

_“You own me - -. Every - - of me.”_

_“I sw- - to god, if you - - me, I’ll scream.”_

The resolve in her voice was steady, despite how scared Minho knew she must have been. It was just like her. Strong, even in her darkest moments, when she was so clearly under threat. But Minho almost wanted her to scream. That would have been all the incentive he’d needed to burst into that room and tear the prick apart.

The exchanges that followed were mostly what Minho had expected, more or less as crazed as he’d anticipated.

He grilled her on the divorce. She admitted to the failure of her marriage, which, just as Minho had suspected it would, tipped Hyunjin over the edge, sending his delusions of grandeur and his hopeless obsessions surging to the surface, while she did her best to stay together, regardless of her vulnerability.

What Minho hadn’t quite expected, however, was the admission of where he’d been all those months he was supposedly away.

The strings he’d pulled to move himself closer to her, to manipulate circumstances and situations that meant they’d inevitably run into each other. And he still called it destiny. Fate. Whatever fucked up form of cosmic intervention he needed to, to convince himself that what he was doing was right.

“This guy has serious fucking problems, are you _hearing_ this?” Chan exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Minho, he stalked her! For months!”

“I heard it.”

_“Do you h- - yourself?! You’re insane, what - - hell happ- - to you?!”_

Minho’s blood ran cold as her lamented wails and accusations of depravity croaked through the speakers. Every muscle in his body tensed, his eyes wide and nervous as he waited for the other shoe to drop. Hyunjin wouldn’t take that well.

And he didn’t.

Once again, the need for physical restraint was required as Changbin did his best to hold Minho together. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t want to help her, take her away from it all, but he also realised that this footage would be the thing that damned this psycho. Permanently.

And in a surprising development, she seemed to have a plan of her own.

Because Minho knew the way she was appealing to him, talking him down and telling him what he wanted to hear wasn’t something she was doing through choice. She was getting him on side. Bringing him around so she could take her opportunity.

“I can’t _fucking_ watch this-” Minho growled, shoving his head into his hands as the emotional turmoil he was experiencing ripped through him anew.

_“H- how - - you uncuff me n-”_

“Hey, I think he’s gonna take the cuffs off her…” Chan muttered, never moving his gaze from the scene playing out before him.

Minho rocked himself back and forth, eyes closed tight as he regretted everything he’d ever done to bring things to this point.

_“Do you- - - want to tou- me?”_

Hyunjin’s cracked voice was simply giddy with anticipation. Minho wanted to be sick.

“Minho, you need to see this,” Chan called out, gesturing for him to come over.

“I can’t. I can’t do it. She… she’s touching him, isn’t she?” He replied, voice trembling under the pressure of it.

“Yeah… she is, but she’s uncuffed and she’s-”

_“Yes… just - - -, Y/N… Show - - how much - - love me-”_

More of Hyunjin’s rapturous babbling seeped into Minho’s ears like a toxic poison, threatening to tip him over the edge. He could only imagine… only dread to think about the lengths she was being forced to go to get herself out of this, when he, her own fucking husband, could have done something all along.

_“F- - Shit! You fuck- -”_

Minho’s eyes flew open, moving on autopilot he approached the screens, noticing the way Chan had instinctively crossed his legs together.

“What happened?!” He asked, eyes wild as he watched his wife fling open the door to the play room, grabbing a white robe and throwing it around her shoulders as she left a seemingly incapacitated Hyunjin reeling on the bed.

“She… she just fucking wrecked him. Hard.” Chan replied, shuddering at the thought of the attack.

“That’s enough, we need to help her-”

“Wait! Just wait! She’s not in any danger, look-” Chan pointed out, tugging on Minho’s arm to keep him away from the faux bookcase door. “If we can get footage of him chasing her, that’ll be another charge on the rap sheet, right? Assault? Malicious intent? Something!”

Minho scoffed in disbelief, yanking his arm out of Chan’s grip.

“Right, and if we wait until he finds her and hurts her, we’ll get battery too?! Fuck off Chan, enough’s enough!”

“Minho get a fucking hold of yourself! Changbin, do you mind?”

Changbin nodded in understanding, shooting Minho an apologetic look as he approached him.

“We just need to watch a bit longer, man. We can’t risk this whole thing going to shit-”

“Changbin… you try and stop me and you’ll regret it, she needs me now.”

“I know you think that, but she can handle herself. You saw what she did.” Changbin replied, his tone firm despite the minuscule lacings of doubt in his voice.

“I know she can handle herself,” Minho growled, his teeth clenching in response. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t scared right now. She’s alone with that psychopath! I’m going out there-”

“Hold on!” Chan suddenly called out, raising his hand in the air to indicate everyone’s silence. “Look…”

Minho rushed over to the screens, his immediate need to see her and make sure she was safe overriding anything else as he searched for her.

“Where is she?”

“There… in the office.” Chan replied, pointing at the bottom left screen.

Minho leaned in, eyes fixated as he furrowed his brow.

“She’s not there Chan.”

“Under the desk. She’s hiding.”

Minho’s breath caught in his throat, the pit in his stomach growing as he caught movement on one of the other screens through his peripherals.

“He’s up-”

The tall figure of Hyunjin staggered down the hallway, still mildly dazed from the attack she’d subjected him to. Minho could just make out the subtle movement of his lips as he called out something incoherent, the words too crackled through the speakers to make any real sense of.

He watched, utterly transfixed as his heart picked up speed involuntarily. Hyunjin approached her hiding place, and his stomach all but dropped as the door opened.

“If he finds her-”

“He won’t.” Chan interrupted, cutting him off. He reached over the table to what looked like a sound board, flicking a switch and raising a dial as he did so. The faint sound of distorted static echoed through the hallway outside, and as if on cue, Hyunjin did a roundabout turn and left the room he was in, pulling him away from her position.

Minho released an audible sigh of relief as Hyunjin’s form moved between the cameras, heading in the direction of the sound. His wife crawled out from under the desk, her movements still tentative and careful.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, his voice trembling.

“Old speakers in the staff room, like a PA system we had installed years ago. We never use it. Honestly I forgot it was there until a minute ago. I can’t believe that fucking worked…” Chan half laughed.

Minho bit back the urge to ask what his plan would have been if that hadn’t worked, instead opting to be grateful that it had.

“She’s moving…” Changbin pointed out, his hand gentle on Minho’s shoulder, acting as a silent form of support as they all watched the screens in front of them.

Her thin white robe clung to her lingerie clad body as she moved, small, careful steps out of the office and down the hallway in the opposite direction Hyunjin had disappeared. Minho couldn’t see her eyes, at least not well enough through this flickering screen to tell what she was feeling, yet he didn’t need to. He knew just from the way she carried herself. The way her shoulders seemed permanently raised as she backed down the corridor, full of helpless fear.

“Where is she going…?” Chan mused quietly.

“There’s nowhere she can go,” Minho replied, bracing himself for the escape he’d need to make to get to her. “She’s trapped.”

“Looks like she’s going for the basement, doesn’t it? That’s the only place she can go from there.” Changbin exclaimed.

Minho took another deep breath, every nerve in his system screaming at him to help her as his gut feeling foretold of the next bad thing that was to come.

And his gut was rarely ever wrong.

Because seemingly out of nowhere, Hyunjin appeared from the staff room, eyes lighting up like fire as he spotted her down the hallway. She turned on her heel, running as fast as her legs could take her while Hyunjin broke out into a straight sprint after her.

Minho couldn’t take anymore.

“I’m leaving. Fuck this.”

He shrugged off Changbin’s attempts to keep him calm, throwing his hands off him and making a beeline straight for the bookcase.

“Minho, I don’t think-”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think!” He shouted, cutting off Chan with his frantic retort. “This whole thing has gone too fucking far! I’m done!”

With barely any effort, he flung open the door, his legs moving alone as he mustered all his strength to get after her. He bounded down the hallway, swinging around the corner and racing to the basement stairs, the deafening pounding of his heart ringing in his ears.

Yet somehow, he knew. He knew he was too late. He could feel it in his bones, and the beginnings of tears that had started to sting at his eyes told him of the worst. The silence in the hallway was almost unnatural, when he’d expected to hear some signs of a struggle or at the very least, her voice.

But as he approached the stairs, his stomach dropped. The sight that greeted him was one that he could never have been prepared for. A vision of hell itself.

She’d fallen. Or been pushed. Minho couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that the fragile, crumpled, seemingly lifeless body at the bottom of the metal stairs, was hers. Waves of sickening nausea, rage and seething hatred swept through him, directed at the one person who was currently looming over her unconscious form, a wretched smile on his lips.

His reaction was instant, born from pure instinct. A need to protect. A need to rescue her.

He flew down the stairs, metal scraping and clanking beneath his feet as he rushed to her. A wide eyed, utterly surprised Hyunjin turned to face him, and before he could even open his mouth, his throat was in Minho’s grasp.

Visions of red blood red rage consumed Minho, not able nor willing to stop himself as he forced Hyunjin back to the heavy wooden door, his firm fist connecting with the supple skin of his face.

One punch created a clean gash across his cheek, piercing the skin itself. The second broke his nose, streams of fresh blood covering both the hand that was holding his throat and their clothes. The third rewarded Minho with a satisfying crack against his eye socket, the subsequent punches only adding to the mess as Hyunjin’s screams of pain and garbled attempts to get him to stop fell on ears that had long since gone deaf.

Minho was fuelled by nothing. Beholden to nothing. He saw only the vulnerability of his wife, and the nerve of someone deluded enough to try and take her. Take her away from him.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“Jesus, Minho!”

A voice that resembled Changbin’s boomed from behind him, followed by more clanking of metal stairs beneath shoes, and a firm arm wrapping itself around his throat as he was pulled away from the man he was close to ending.

“Get the fuck off me! He’s not dead yet, he’s not-”

“Stop! Just stop! Minho… look at him-”

Minho blinked, a fraction of clear vision returning to him as the pressure Changbin was putting on his airways forced him to take a stabilising breath.

Hyunjin was ruined. Immediate swelling around his eye had all but closed it up, the crooked visage of his nose displaying as anything but natural with the way Minho had smashed it to pieces. A messy combination of dried and fresh blood decorated his face, oozing from the gashes Minho had created. Staggered breaths were drawn in as Hyunjin simply collapsed to the floor, utterly battered and bereft of any will he had to fight.

“Y/N, is she…”

Breaking himself free of Changbin’s grasp, he turned to find his wife.

Sinking to his knees, his senses returned to him all too quickly, the initial rage he felt dissipating into something much more melancholy.

“Baby…?” He whispered, taking her limp form in his arms. He pressed his fingers to her neck, instinct telling him that he should first check for the signs of glowing life he knew from her. The faintest, weakest trace of a pulse pumped beneath his fingertips, but it did little to ease the nausea.

“Call a fucking ambulance. Now!” He breathed, directing the command at Changbin or indeed anyone within close vicinity.

Helpless tears rolled down his cheeks, his eyes glossing over her as he assessed the surface injuries.

She was badly bruised, that much was apparent. The perfect complexion of her skin turning shades of sickly yellow and purple in the places she’d connected with harsh metal and concrete. Yet there was no telling as to the internal damage, and that scared Minho all the more.

He held his hand to her cheek, supporting her head in his arms as he felt her fading warmth beneath his blood stained palm.

“Y/N… baby, please. Please wake up…”

He laced his fingers into her hair, his brow furrowing in confusion as they seemed to connect with something wet. Carefully retracting his hand, deeper horror and panic washed through him anew as her blood had painted his fingertips.

“No… no, no, no-”

He sat her up as best he could, supporting her between his legs as he shrugged off his jacket and rolled it into a makeshift pillow. He pressed it against the back of her head, from the place she appeared to be bleeding, applying as much pressure as he dared to for lack of the medical knowledge he had.

“Changbin?! The ambulance, did you call?!” He cried, breaking into a sob.

“Y- Yeah man, they’re on their way, just… just stay here-”

Changbin turned on his heel, bounding up the stairs two at a time as he left, presumably to hail for the paramedics.

And the absence of another person seemed to be all it took for Minho to break.

He could do nothing but cry.

The reason for his being, the only light he’d ever had shone into his life, was lying all but lifeless in his arms. Slipping away from him by the second with every drop of blood she expelled. And he couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.

He held his forehead to hers, gentle sobs and the tears they were forcing falling to her face, sliding down her skin in a morbid tribute to his regrets.

Minho could have done more. He could have done _something._ He could have… _should_ have saved her, and stopped this from happening.

Everything he’d done up until now… his attempts that had come from the right place, with the best of intentions, had ended in disaster for everyone. Letting Hyunjin roam free, simply putting up with him would have been better than this. If he’d known how it was to end, he would never have gone through with it.

Yet the excuses were irrelevant. Because he knew he was putting her in danger. The whole time, the second he’d agreed to this fucking plan, he’d resigned himself to the possibility that shemight not see the other side of it unscathed. That putting her in the middle of it all, unbeknownst to her, was an unforgivable betrayal of her trust.

Nothing in the world, nor the universe itself, meant more to him than she did. His love for her was unmatched, and all he’d wanted was to keep her safe. Keep the bad guy away, and be the hero she needed, even though she’d never asked for that.

Yet in this case, Minho truly believed, that the end didn’t justify the means. Seeing her in this state, limp in his arms and void of her usual spark, Minho knew.

It simply hadn’t been worth it. None of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Feedback via [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
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	9. Chapter 9

##### The days that followed the incident in the club, had been nothing short of torturous.

Minho’s own form of personal hell.

While her hospital recovery had been only a few days, Minho had never felt such tangible tension. By some miracle she’d regained consciousness relatively quickly, but on advice from the doctors, had been kept in for observation for fear her condition would worsen. True to form, she’d soon lost patience with that, opting to discharge herself several days before she was due to be released on her own insistence that she was fine.

“I can’t breathe in here Minho,” she’d muttered, desperate to leave the medical apparatus and faceless doctors behind her.

How could he have refused her, after everything?

Thankfully, her initially precarious condition had only seemed to improve, yet the head wound she’d suffered had been enough to provide significant concussion, leaving her dazed, confused and unable to recall the immediate events of the incident. Minho had counted that as a small blessing in some measure. Anything to rid her of the trauma.

And all while her wellbeing remained uncertain, the weight on Minho’s heart grew. He had yet to tell her anything, about the events leading up to her getting hurt, or the part he’d played in the whole affair.

Despite how clueless he could be at the best of times, he knew enough to recognise that dumping everything on her in her less-than-able condition wouldn’t have helped anything. So his admission of guilt had lingered on the tip of his tongue, Minho painfully aware that the longer it remained, the harder it would be to find the courage to tell her.

But he knew he had to. It was obvious, even to him, that she deserved the truth.

And now that they sat in the comfort of their own home, the familiar surroundings of the life they’d made together creating a marginal sense of safety, he no longer had any excuse. No reason to procrastinate, as much as he searched for one.

Minho glanced over his phone, observing her laid out on the opposite sofa, a book in her hands and a soft pillow beneath her head. Stealing small glances was a regular habit he’d developed since she’d been home. A simple look was all he needed, though he couldn’t even be sure what it was he was checking for by now.

Her health, her slight breaths and state of consciousness? Her mere presence, here with him, in the same house? Minho supposed that he didn’t deserve any of those things, yet he was endlessly grateful for them. So for the most part, she was okay. As okay as she could be, all things considered. And if she smiled, that was a bonus. But that was happening far less frequently now.

Tired would not have been the right word to describe her state. Downtrodden, exhausted or defeated would have been more accurate. Minho knew she was void of the usual glow she carried, the infectious laughter and stunning simplicity to her demeanour now essentially nonexistent.

And he was to blame. At least, in part enough for it to matter.

“You’re staring again…” She muttered as she closed the book in her hands, resting it to her lap.

They locked eyes across the room, that consistent weighted pang of guilt and adoration shooting through him. It was every time he looked at her. A reminder of the looming truths he had yet to spill.

“Just checking in.” He replied, forcing his best smile.

“Minho…” she sighed, propping herself up on her elbows. “I’m fine. Really. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Minho nodded, tossing his phone to the sofa seat next to him as he stood from his place. The helpless thudding of his heart only quickened as he approached her, sinking to his knees next to her.

“I think… we should talk.” He whispered, taking her hand in his.

Quite unexpectedly, she simply nodded in response.

As if she’d known all along that there were things Minho held secret. Things he wasn’t proud of.

And so Minho resigned himself to the inevitable. The confession he knew would end his marriage, and his life, as he knew it.

* * *

##### “You’re staring again…”

Not that you minded him staring, but the too-regular checks he’d taken to performing were beginning to make you feel like a test subject. Yes, you’d been hurt. And sure, you hadn’t been able to shake the lingering headache you’d had since the incident. But in yourself, you were fine. More or less.

The doctors had said that, with time, you’d eventually regain your memories, yet in the fuss and mania of your hospitalisation, you’d neglected to tell them exactly how much you remembered, because it was certainly more than they suspected from the way they’d talked.

You remembered the rude awakening. Rousing to a state of confinement, wrought upon you by that man. You remembered the chase, though not the fear. Dark, hazy memories of hiding and running, knowing you had to be quiet, and that you’d be in danger if you weren’t.

And worse than any of that, was the memory of his face. The crazed, blown out vision of someone who’d convinced themselves that you, the object of their unwanted affections, simply needed to be brought around to a new way of thinking, _their_ way of thinking and their rabid confessions of unrequited love before you’d accept them.

The rest, you couldn’t recall. And you took the small mercy with gratitude.

You’d had the blanks filled in by the police that had grilled you during your time in hospital. As you understood it, Hyunjin had shoved you down the metal stairs of the club, and they had clear evidence of that, as well as everything else he’d put you through.

Footage had been secured, they’d said. Handed in to the police via an anonymous do-gooder that _you_ had an inkling as to the identity of. Said footage apparently collated a lengthy list of charges that ranged from unlawful restraint to clear cut assault, as well as others you didn’t quite understand nor want elaborated on as the nameless, blasé lawyers and officers assured you that he’d be brought to justice.

You’d have to take their word for that. Your lack of understanding for the legal system wasn’t one you cared to have rectified. As long as he was gone.

Inevitably, and as you assumed was probably standard for most victims of crime, you wondered where you’d gone wrong to bring about this kind of pain.

You found yourself analysing everything. Scrutinising things you’d done, words you’d said to Hyunjin that somehow sparked the futile hope he held for something more. The one night at the club you’d spent with him, all those months ago. Had that been the catalyst? The starting point?

Perhaps. You simply had no way of knowing, in the end.

But more immediately concerning than any threat that Hyunjin posed, was the future of your life with this man kneeling beside you.

The pool of dread you experienced every time you looked into his eyes was starting to take its’ toll. The unspoken secrets he held behind those hazel irises, ridden with sadness. They were a crushing weight on any happiness you could hope to have.

Yet you’d waited for him to approach you first. Until he was ready to talk.

And it appeared, that now he was.

* * *

##### “I want you to know… before I say anything,” he began, his voice heavy with whatever burdens he was habouring.

“That I… I love you. I love you, Y/N. That’s the whole reason any of this happened.”

You smiled as best you could, taking his hand in yours in an affectionate gesture meant to calm him, despite how your insides were churning with anxious anticipation.

“I love you too.”

Minho nodded, taking a deep breath, your assurance having less of an effect on him than it would have under any normal circumstances. His fingers laced with yours, his thumb sweeping a gentle circle on your skin as he tried to find the courage.

“Minho,” you interjected, leaning across the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “Whatever it is, you… you can talk to me. You know that. I’m here.”

He leaned in to your touch, his eyes closing in a soft reverie of appreciation for your hands on him. You hoped he found comfort in it.

He opened his eyes, holding your gaze as he began to speak.

“What happened at the club. With Hyunjin. It was planned, Y/N. The whole thing.”

You cocked your head in confusion, obviously needing him to elaborate.

“Chan, Changbin and I… we set the whole thing up. After that night you went to the party at Hyunjin’s place, we decided something had to be done. I- I couldn’t just sit back and watch him dig his claws into you any longer, Y/N. He… had to be stopped.”

You cast your mind back to the party, ignoring the subsequent ache in your head. To the events therein, and more specifically, your rendezvous with Hyunjin in the cloak cupboard that had started as something unwanted. Not that it had stayed that way. Not after he’d started to make you feel things you’d craved. Yet another thing you’d done to fuel his delusions.

“Changbin called me, told me about what happened. With you two. Not specifics, obviously, just that he saw you go in to some cupboard with him and come out after a while, looking… less than decent. I put the pieces together, I guess. But you told Changbin you were scared, Y/N. Scared of Hyunjin.”

You shook your head, again in mild confusion, as you started to put your own pieces of the puzzle together.

“But… I told you what happened the next day. In my office. You… already knew?” You asked.

Minho nodded, his gaze falling to the sofa seat as he hung his head.

You released a half-laugh of disbelief, the resolve you’d held at the time being reduced to something so insignificant now that you realised he’d known the whole time. You played back everything he’d said, everything he’d done. He’d shown no sign at all, not even an inkling as to his knowledge of what went on.

_Actor, clearly._

“Why did you let me go through with telling you then? You could have stopped me.” You muttered, assessing his reactions carefully.

“I should have stopped you,” he nodded again, the agreement taking you by surprise. “But it was part of the plan. I… I thought that ending things with you and creating an argument would be enough to get Hyunjin to believe it.”

“Minho, I don’t understand-”

“It was fake, Y/N! All the talk of divorce, the lawyers, all of it. I had no intentions of going through with any of it, but… I needed you to believe it was real. That it was happening. Because if you didn’t, Hyunjin never would.” His words came out faster than before, frantic in his explanation.

“But why would Hyunjin need to believe we were over?”

Minho sighed, his gaze once again lowering with his dipping confidence, the logic seeming more insane now that he was going over it again.

“We needed you to be… upset. Unwilling to fight. We hoped that an argument would do that, and somehow, it did. Chan took you to the play room, and we needed you to be compliant so you’d go along with the whole thing.”

Palpable heartache shot through you as you gradually realised what was happening. He’d hurt you on purpose. Said all those cruel, shattering things _on purpose_. At the time, the intonation behind his words and the way he’d spat them at you caused you heartache, but you’d believed that to be an inherent side effect of the argument itself. Knowing now that it was the whole point, essentially the only reason for the confrontation at all, somehow made it all so much worse.

He’d been _trying_ to break you. And he’d succeeded.

A gentle squeeze of your hand reminded you that he wasn’t done yet, and you somehow found the willpower to keep listening.

“After you were in the play room, Chan called Hyunjin. Asked him to look after you, basically gave him the key. We… watched the whole thing play out on the cameras. Recorded everything. And gave it to the police.”

A hundred questions swam through your head, coupled with the overwhelming urge to cry. And not simply for the truths he was easing you into. Moreso, the look on his face made you want to burst into tears. He was struggling, and it was painfully apparent. You could only imagine the sleepless nights and stressful days he’d spent agonising over this. And you almost couldn’t blame him.

Because you felt like a rat caught in a trap. A helpless piece of bait that had been thrown to the lion that hounded you. And all the while, he’d simply watched.

You needed more than he was giving you if you ever hoped to be able to look at him again.

“The cameras… do you mean the CCTV?” You asked, that being the first thing you wanted to get clear.

Minho nodded.

“Chan never got rid of them. Replaced them with a whole new system, actually. The monitors were in a back room, in his office. I don’t know why he did that, but… that’s what we used.” He replied.

“And… you were in there? The whole time? You saw everything he did?”

Another remorseful nod, heavier than the last.

“You… didn’t stop it?”

His grip on your hand tightened, as if trying to keep you on side.

“I wanted to, baby. _Fuck_ , I wanted to so badly. But, the other guys… I know it’s not an excuse, but, they said we needed the footage. And… it worked, Y/N,” he replied, his voice trailing off dismally. “It worked…”

You nodded in quiet understanding, still struggling to put the pieces of everything together as you tried to rationalise what he’d done.

“You did it… to keep me safe. For the long term. Right?”

“Of course… Of course, angel, that’s all I ever wanted to do,” he ushered, his eyes glistening with the makings of tears. “I just wanted to protect you. Getting rid of that pyscho… it was the only way to make sure you’d be safe. And with me.”

Pyscho? Hyunjin?

You wondered if that was right. He’d done terrible things, and there was no doubt about that, but now… perspective seemed to be a wonderful thing in hindsight. You _almost_ felt sorry for him.

Yet admittedly, and as much as it hurt, their plan had worked. Hyunjin had been caught, using you and the promise of your newly, or soon-to-be single status as the lure.

Minho bore the weight of everything. You’d been none the wiser as to his plan, or the lengths he was prepared to go to protect you. And now that you knew, you’d never been so conflicted.

“Is that everything?” You muttered.

“Yes.”

There could be no room for doubt. No room for questioning or the possibility of lingering secrets if you were to move forward. If you _wanted_ to move forward.

“Where… do we go from here?” You whispered, more to yourself than to him.

You could berate him. Scream at him for being so stupid. Hate him for throwing you in the path of someone so unhinged, even though he’d been watching the whole thing unfold.

You knew how quickly things could have turned. It would have taken only a mere second for things to go bad to the point of non-repair, and as far as you knew, the situation had come dangerously close to that anyway, if the police accounts were anything to go off.

Minho wouldn’t have been able to do a thing to stop it from the safety of that room.

But you felt like he knew all that. He had to. It was why he’d been so reluctant, so frightened to tell you in the first place.

“I don’t know.”

His answer to your question was a solemn one. An empty, uncertain statement that filled your heart with even more pain, as hard to believe as that was.

You nodded quietly, taking your hand from his.

Anything said right now would be fuelled from a place of emotional turmoil. And you knew better than that, giving everything that had happened so far. Nothing good ever came from things said in the heat of the moment.

“I think I’m gonna take a drive. I need some air.”

You stood from the sofa, placing your hand against his cheek and a single affectionate kiss to the top of his head. His hair was soft, the familiar scent of his shampoo reminding you of that place of comfort he’d always offered you, giving your heart a listless wrench.

Pulling away from him, you headed to the front door, collecting your keys from the unit and your coat from the rack.

Minho didn’t protest, or try to keep you with him. That much you were glad of, and you’d have thanked him if you could stomach being indoors for a second longer.

But you couldn’t. And so you left the apartment, oversized jacket gathered firmly around your body, car keys dangling between your fingers.

You wondered if you’d ever come back.

* * *

##### You’d been driving for hours.

The setting of the sun offered the city a golden hue, the glaring light beaming through your windshield forcing you to retrieve your sunglasses from the glove box. But at least now, you could appreciate the view.

Technically, you shouldn’t been been driving. Being only several days fresh from the hospital meant that you were limited to certain activities on the doctor’s advice, but you’d never been one for rules anyway.

In yourself, you felt as well as you could, all things considered. So why shouldn’t you take some much needed time alone?

You wound the window down as you drove through the sparse back streets of the city, admiring the way the skyline stood out against the amber glow of the clouds. The warm evening air swept around you gently, your hair fluttering around your shoulders.

With your exit from the house, came a sense of relief.

Your head wasn’t hurting as much. Your heart wasn’t aching as strongly. Your stomach had been churning for the last few days, and that, coupled with the lingering nausea wasn’t something that seemed to want to stop, even with the detachment you now had.

Yet it was enough. Driving with no destination in mind, simply moving as you wished, brought a welcome sense of freedom.

Until the harsh ringing of your phone pulled you from the mild trance you’d entered.

You cursed under your breath, quickly looking for somewhere to pull over. Despite not being one for rules, you still weren’t quite prepared to break the law just to answer a call.

Spying an empty space along the pavement, you flicked the indicator and pulled over, grabbing your phone from the passenger seat as you yanked up the handbrake and switched off the ignition.

Unrecognised number.

“Hello?”

_“Oh, good evening, is this Mrs. Lee?”_

An unrecognised voice. Just as strange.

“Yes, speaking. Who is this?”

_“Mrs. Lee, this is Dr. Smith from the county hospital. I was responsible for overseeing your tests?”_

The name rung no bells whatsoever, but you decided to take his word for it anyway.

“Oh, right. Hi.”

 _“How are you, by the way? We would have preferred that you stay admitted for longer, Mrs. Lee, but yo_ _u have a checkup scheduled soon, yes?_ _”_ _  
_

“Y- Yes… in a few days. But I’m fine. Sorry, what’s this about?”

A short pause from the end of the phone as you heard something resembling papers shuffling, when Dr. Smith seemed to clear his throat.

_“Ah, well, the results of your blood and urine tests came in today.”_

You honestly had no recollection of any of the tests they’d done at all, only being privy to the knowledge that they seemed to need an almost ludicrous amount of your bodily fluids to make sure you weren’t dying any time soon.

“And?”

_“Well, it’s not what we were looking for, I’ll admit. But I have good news nonetheless.”_

You raised your eyebrows in annoyance, wishing he’d just get to the damn point.

_“You appear to be four weeks pregnant, Mrs. Lee.”_

And the world stopped.

Traffic ceased, the people froze. Time stilled in its’ pace, your ears ringing with the words you’d just heard like a bell that tolled entirely too loudly. The golden hue of the sky seemed to fade in colour as your eyes lost their focus, your mind turning up a blank with the impact that wasn’t unlike a punch to the teeth.

“W- What…?”

_“You’re pregnant, Mrs. Lee. Four weeks. Congratulations. Now, in light of this, we recommend that you come back to the hospital sooner than-”_

You ended the call as your body demanded it, the phone falling from your hand as a sickening wave of nausea and seeping dread gripped your frozen heart.

Of everything that could have been wrong with you, everything the universe could have decided to put you through, they choose this.

 _This_ is your just reward. Your sentence.

A child.

* * *

##### You seemed to have a habit of forgetting things lately.

Either that or your brain had begun to short circuit with the pressure, as you had no recollection of how you’d just made it home.

All you knew was that you had to _get_ home.

Minho, he deserved to know. He was your husband, after all, even if only in name now.

And so moving entirely on autopilot, you unlocked the door to your home, stepping inside and kicking off your shoes. Everything in you had rendered itself numb with the latent shock, and so you didn’t find yourself stressing out about his reaction, or wondering how he’d take it.

It was simply another presented problem.

“You’re back?”

His voice resonated through the living room, and you hadn’t missed how that had come out as a question. He was clearly surprised you’d returned at all, it was written all over his face as he appeared before you.

You smiled at his greeting, though it was entirely forced. He knew, yet it didn’t stop him rushing to your side at the sight of you.

“Angel? Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet-”

Gentle hands on your shoulders guided you to the bedroom, you not having the capacity to protest or complain.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go outside, you’re not well enough to-”

“Minho?”

He froze at your calling, your voice having an instant effect on him. Because it wasn’t right. Nothing about the way you just uttered his name was normal. It was far too uncertain, and much too shaky to be anything other than frightening.

“W- What?” He asked, concern rife in his eyes.

“Sit down.”

He complied, without question, taking your hand in his as he sat beside on you on the neatly made up bed.

And for the first time, in a heartrendingly long time, you looked at him. _Really_ looked at him.

You took in the way his eyes creased at the edges, how the bags under them made him look so much more than just fatigued. How the bridge of his nose remained stunningly sharp, his high cheekbones and plump lips offering an ethereal view of beauty. How the small, barely detectable mole decorated the edge of his nostril, only visible when you looked at him this closely.

You wondered if your child would look like him.

If they’d have his eyes, or yours. If they’d take your lips, or his. Would they be born with the same imperfections, while still appearing utterly perfect?

And entirely without prompting, tears began to slip down your cheeks.

“B- Baby? What’s wrong, talk to me-”

Frantic appeals and his careful touches did nothing to soothe you. The reality was all too bleak as the emotions returned in a crushing wave, a desperate sense of regret, tinged with an excitement you knew was undeserved.

“Y/N, p- please, you’re scaring m-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You weren’t sure what you’d expected. Weren’t sure what he’d do, or what he’d say.

Yet his hand clamped over his mouth like he was holding in something too strong for this moment, his eyes blowing open with the initial shock.

And then he softened, his irises glistening with the makings of tears, thick lashes now damp. He dropped his hand, sinking his teeth to his lip as he choked back a sob, his head shaking in blatant denial.

“S- Say something…” You pleaded, needing him to be with you.

“I…” he hesitated, releasing the most audible exclamation of pain you’d ever heard from him.

Panic ran rife, the nausea rearing itself, though you could no longer be sure where it was coming from.

“I’m… so _fucking_ sorry, Y/N.”

He was… sorry?

He was apologising?

You could surmise as to the reasons he was apologising, and they hit you like a truck.

All his issues, the ones you thought he’d overcome in some way or another. His startling lack of self-love and the inherent loathing he held for himself for as long as you’d known him. They were still there, as present as they’d ever been under the surface of his confident demeanour.

He’d told you countless times how he felt he’d never deserved you. How he’d never understood what you saw in him, even after the display of love you’d showered him with the first night you’d confessed your feelings. The first night you’d _really_ been together, despite the numerous times you’d had each other.

You’d followed his train of thought before he could himself.

That people like you, couples like you, didn’t deserve this kind of happiness.

But this wasn’t right.

Yes, you’d panicked. Yes, this was almost comically inconvenient timing what with everything you were going through. And yes… you were nowhere near prepared.

Yet a newfound sense of resolve blazed within you. Just like you’d done so many times before, you would persevere. You _could_ get through it. As long as he was beside you.

“Be with me, Minho.”

You took his hand this time, tilting his chin to get him to look at you. He held his eyes closed, unable to do so.

“Baby… Look at me. Please?”

He shook his head again, though he opened his eyes this time. Meeting your gaze, you could see the worries he held. Feel them before he even spoke.

“I know… this is bad timing. It’s the worst timing. I know that a baby won’t fix this relationship,” you whispered, holding his face in your hands. “But it’s happening. Whether we like it or not.”

Minho placed his hand over yours on his cheek, leaning in to the touch. Hesitant and gentle, like he was afraid you might break.

“I didn’t mean for this-”

"Don’t,” you interrupted, hushing him gently. "Please don’t treat me like I had no part in this. Like this isn’t just as much my fault as it is yours.”

“I… I didn’t know. I didn’t know, Y/N… _Fuck_ , the baby… The baby could have-”

His lamenting was devastating. It was ripping you in half, the internal battle so clearly visible through the tremors that had set into his shoulders that you wanted nothing more than to banish his demons for him. 

” _We_ didn’t know, Minho… Please don’t do this to me. Don’t disappear. I need you now.” You sobbed, willing him to come back to you.

He took a stabilising breath, hearing your pleads as clearly as you’d meant them.

“We… We can do this. Can’t we?” He muttered, blinking away the tears, head still hung low.

“We can.”

A quaking breath escaped him as he steadied his nerves, his other hand removing yours from his face. He held it carefully, the two of you now silent in your mutual comprehensions of what was going to happen.

You were going to be parents. You were having a child, together. To be responsible for another human life, when your own lives were nothing but hectic.

“I’m… going to be a father.” He eventually sighed, the words coming as a gradual acceptance.

You nodded in response, your heart fit to bursting with the way his eyes seemed to glisten at the edges. Like the longer he thought about it, the more time he had to process, the harder it was to hide his growing excitement.

“You’re going to be a father,” you repeated, giving him the affirmation he needed. “The best father. I know it, Minho.”

And you did. Despite all his flaws, his uncanny ability to screw things up without ever needing to try too hard, Minho was everything. Stalwart, protective to a fault, and you had no doubt that he’d risk life and limb for his own child, if current events were anything to go by.

Your words seemed to have a visible effect on Minho as the wonder to his eyes transformed into a look you knew all too well. As though the penny had dropped, the possibilities shining true.

“You’re the mother of my children, Y/N. My… wife.” He rasped, slinking closer to you, almost magnetically.

“I am…”

You knew. And if this was how he needed to work through things, you’d gladly indulge.

Because the closer he got, the harder you realised you’d missed him. Desperately. More than actions, or words, it was simply a feeling. You missed the all-consuming, drowning pleasure that this man had given you, more than once.

Even without the physicality between you, his emotional support, when he tried, was second to none. It was entirely healing. The way he put you back together and the highs he took you to were worth all the pain.

You just needed to reconnect with him, in the way both of you knew best.

You slid aside as he leaned ever closer to you, tugging gently on his hand as you pulled him with you to the bed proper. He silently obliged, settling down next to you, the two of you still being ever too careful.

Resting on your side, you curled your arm under the pillow beneath you, looking straight at him as he did the same thing.

You couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time you’d slept together after you’d confessed your feelings to him, and him to you. He’d worn a similar expression back then. Uncertainty, doubt. Maybe even a little fear, born from a place of believing that he was undeserving of you.

It seemed that you being married to him was doing little to reinforce that, actually, he was more deserving of your love than anyone else. Because he was simply the only man you’d ever desired. The only one you’d ever wanted. And he always would be.

He just needed to be forgiven, and reminded. Reminded that he was worth more than his failings.

Taking a slow, deep breath, you closed the distance between you, sliding as close to him as you dared get, your shorts and oversized shirt catching on the sheets beneath you with the friction, riding up your body.

Pressing your lips to his tentatively, you wound your fingers into his tresses, holding him in place for fear he’d try to stop you. And you were right.

A gentle hold on your wrist pulled your hand away, and he broke the kiss before it had even really started.

“Y/N… Don’t force yourself. Not now. You should rest.” He whispered, though his eyes told an entirely different story.

“No,” you retorted, shaking free from his grip. “I don’t need anything else right now.”

His resolve flickered as his expression seemed to tense, the hold on his self control crumbling with the passing seconds that you remained in close proximity like this. He was clearly battling with multiple things, and you simply wished he’d stop. Stop thinking. Just be here, with you, in this moment.

“Please, Minho…” you pleaded, curling your fingers into his shirt, tugging him closer. You gazed into his eyes, appealing in every way you could. “Just… be with me. Touch me. Like you used to. We might not get moments like this for much longer.”

A groan of exasperation rumbled from him, his eyes hooding with your request. You knew he wanted it too. He just needed that push. He needed to hear the only thing that would even begin to make either of you feel whole again.

“You’re forgiven. You’re loved. You’ll always be loved,” you breathed, nuzzling your nose against his chin, fighting back the urge to break into tears. 

“By both of us.”

And that was all it took. It was all he needed.

A gasp of surprise emitted from you as Minho lunged, his eyes fierce and wanting. You were pressed back to the bed, his hand gliding up your shirt, connecting with the bare skin of your waist in a heated embrace as his other arm supported his weight above you.

You noted how, usually, he’d be entirely flush with you by now, clearly your new condition presenting itself as something to be careful of, and it only made your heart swell all the more.

His lips consumed yours, needy and desperate, a clashing of teeth and tongue as any measure of control evaporated the longer he felt you under him. Every part of you melted, helpless to do anything but let him have his way as a low groan emitted from his throat at your warmth.

His hand encased your breast, made all the easier by lack of a bra. He drank in your quiet moans of pleasure as he began to massage the supple, soft skin. His fingertips rolled expertly, moulding your breast into the crooks of his hand before he caught your erect nipple in the space between his fingers.

“ _Fuck_ … Y/N…” He rasped, your name a prayer as he buried his head into your neck and lapped at the sensitive skin there, your head tilting aside to allow him better access.

“I love you…” You groaned, too far gone and dizzy to say anything of major note. Because it was all you were feeling. Overwhelming, irreverent love for him.

A sudden tingling of colder, room temperature air connected with your skin as Minho removed your shirt from you, and he quickly removed his own before he returned to you. Yet something made him stop.

His face contorted with pain and regret as his eyes trailed over your naked form. Over the dark purple marks and yellowing bruises that painted your skin. They acted as a reminder of what you’d been through. Of what he’d enabled.

“Hey,” you muttered, lifting his chin, sensing the hesitation. “I’m okay. It’s superficial, nothing more.”

Minho shook his head, still clearly struggling despite your assurances.

“I’m so fucking sorry…” He breathed, the apology catching in his throat. “I’ll always be sorry.”

His fingertips found your bruises, his head disappearing from your view as he attended to the markings, though he knew he could do nothing of note. Yet he would try. The small bruise above your collarbone, the marks on your waist and ribs, below your breast and down your hip. Affectionate, tender touches, barely ghosting over you. Tentative kisses and washings of warm air from his lips that were intended only to heal. The surging care behind the showering of love sent tears pricking at your eyes, yet you stifled the urge to release them.

He sunk further down still, his large hands closing over the soft skin of your belly, nestling you carefully. He held his lips to you, his eyes shut as he murmured quietly.

“I’ll give you everything, little one. I promise you… I will never, _ever_ let anything bad happen to you or your mother. Ever again.”

You could no longer stifle that urge to hold back the tears.

Minho returned to you, a conflict of emotions present as the watering in his eyes told you, the silken planes of his chest and ridges of his abs pressing carefully against your body.

“I mean it,” he choked, stroking the strands of hair from your face, thumbing away the stray tears. “I’ll never f- fuck up like that again, Y/N.”

You knew. His promise was tangible, his words so clear and true.

“I know…”

Your hands curved over his broad shoulders, pulling him back to you. He was firm in all the right places, yet so soft. He was perfection incarnate, and you’d missed him dearly.

His breath fanned warm across your neck as he took gentle hold of your shorts, bucking your hips upwards and removing the clothing in one motion. Now completely naked beneath him, you squirmed in helpless pleasure as he dragged his fingertips down your navel, to the heat between your legs.

You whimpered in desperation as his expert fingers connected with your bare, needy sex, gliding through the wetness of your folds with a single, careful lave, the atmosphere quickly descending into something far more carnal, riddled with the lingerings of emotion.

“You’ll never know how much I missed touching you…” He purred, his words ringing through your ears.

You knew he needed this. _You_ needed this.

“You’ll never know how much I need you. How badly I drown in you… The things I’d do for you, Y/N…”

His rasps of devotion sent you into a haze, one that you never wanted to come back from. You bucked your hips into his touch, chasing the sensation of his fingers as they left you wanting more.

“P- Please… Don’t stop, Minho…” You chanted, his name coming out as a whine as he once again disappeared from your view.

Your thighs were parted with a gentle movement, the bed dipping beneath you and the familiarity of this situation sending butterflies wild in your stomach as you anticipated his next action.

“I’ll take all the pain away, baby. You’ll feel so good for me…”

Your breathing heavily laboured, a drawn out moan filling the room as his lips formed the warmest, tightest of cocoons around your throbbing clit. He suckled softly, drawing out your voice and your natural juices, before flicking his tongue across the bud.

Entwining your fingers into his hair, you soon fell into a synchrony of salacious wanting as you began to grind your hips against his mouth, the two of you working together to bring on your orgasm all the more intensely. Your legs began to tremble as he outstretched his tongue, forcing you to feel every inch of the rough wetness across your clit as he slicked it through you, the knot in your stomach expanding to the point of near collapse, when suddenly, all contact was lost.

You opened your eyes that until now, had been all but melded shut, looking down at his smug expression with disappointment clear on your face.

“Were you going to cum, angel?” He teased.

“Y- Yes…” You breathed, your cheeks a fiery red.

“Why don’t we see how long you can go?”

_How long?_

The challenge his words offered made you keen, the idea of the orgasm you’d eventually be rewarded with if you could withstand it being too tantalising for you not to want it. He was falling back into his rhythm, and the notion made you frantic.

“Can you be a good girl for me?”

You nodded desperately, clenching around nothing at his almost painful proximity to your soaking pussy, that was now wholly neglected.

“Words-” He commanded, raising a disapproving eyebrow at you.

“Y- Yes… I’ll be good, I’m good…”

Seeming satisfied with your answer, his head dipped back between your legs, and once again you were subjected to the heavenly assault of his lips, tongue and mouth all working your core at once.

Firm drags of his tongue made you whine, rapid kitten licks made you tense as he edged your orgasm close to release, and careful, very deliberate sucklings of your clit forced your back clean off the bed as you came dangerously close to release.

But you had to be good.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, releasing your hold on his hair and supporting yourself as you tried to control your breathing. You bit down on your hand, bringing it to your lips in an effort to distract yourself from the insane pleasure he was giving you, but to little success.

“F- _Fuck_ … ahh, fuck-”

Minho suddenly stopped as he recognised the signs your body was giving him, flashing a glance up at your disheveled state.

“Close, baby? But you’re doing so well…” He crooned, edging you further with another gentle lap of your clit.

You whimpered helplessly, speaking around your hand as you replied to him.

“I… I can take it. D- Don’t stop…”

“Sure about that? You know what’ll happen if you cum too soon…” He taunted.

You nodded, knowing that the reward he’d give you if you _could_ withstand would be far more delicious than you could imagine.

“Wor-”

“Yes! Yes… I’m sure!” You interrupted, cutting him off before he could berate you once again.

A wicked glint sparked in his eye as he pressed another wet kiss to the hood of your clit, sending sparks up your legs.

“One more minute, angel. Sixty seconds. Then you can cum all over my face. Okay?”

“Okay…”

Sixty seconds was doable, right? Had to be. That was no time at all.

Yet Minho and his sadistic streak knew no bounds.

A relentless assault on your core made you reel with desire, pure sensuality flooding through your nerves and veins. You couldn’t be sure exactly what he was doing with his tongue, but it was nothing short of unholy as you moaned without abandon and gasped at the intensity of his actions. The addition of one long, firm finger into your pussy was the final straw, and you mustered every bit of strength you had to stop yourself from falling into the most brutal of orgasms.

He plunged his digit into you, curving and caressing your walls with a gentle tenderness that could only come from someone who loved you so unconditionally. He explored you, knowing exactly where to touch to make you mewl like a cat in heat, his tongue all the while dipping between your folds, laving across your labia, pressing against your clit and riding you into utter ecstasy.

Your body shook, quivering with the rapidly approaching high he was driving you to. You couldn’t hold it… The need to release was the only thing you could feel, the only thing your mind was focusing on as your attempts to keep yourself together crumbled at his behest.

And so you did. A wheezing moan, a stunning arch and the tightest of grips on the bed sheets beneath you signified your downfall, and Minho simply grinned against your quivering pussy as you came undone.

Intermittent waves of heat and white hot euphoria crushed you, rendering you the weakest you’d felt in a long, long time. And as always, Minho simply gave you your moment. There was no rebuttal, no scolding nor snide remark. He simply edged you through it, giving you the extra stimulation when you slowed, knowing roughly how long and how intense your orgasms were by how you reacted, and how your body responded.

Because he simply knew you like no one else ever could.

The stars in your vision began to gradually subside, your breathless attempts to apologise falling utterly short as your toes grew numb and the tingling in your core spread to every inch of your body.

“That wasn’t sixty seconds, angel.” Minho purred, his voice disapproving, yet not cruel.

“I… I c- couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what, hm?”

Your stomach began to knot all over again as the subtle sound of a zipper coming undone and Minho’s movements signified to you that he was removing his own jeans.

“I couldn’t… stop myself… I’m s- sorry-”

Minho hushed you, pressing his moisture laden lips to yours as he positioned himself between your legs, caging you into his safety and warmth.

“Don’t be sorry…” He whispered, his lips still glistening with your release. “You don’t ever apologise. For anything.”

The implication behind his words was clearer than it needed to be. He wasn’t simply telling you not to apologise for breaking his little rule. He was telling you that, despite everything, your apologies were worthless when you simply held no fault for anything.

But that wasn’t about to stop you from carrying your share of the blame. You’d both done things that you’d regret. Yet you knew it was better to regret together, than apart. At least, when you were together, you stood a chance of healing.

“I love you…”

That, instead, was all you could utter. It was all you needed to say. And Minho understood.

A subtle roll of his hips sent his rock hard length gliding through your folds, the rigidity of the motion causing a pitiful whine to emit from you.

“You want this, baby?” He teased, his eyes dark with desire.

“I want _you_ …”

You clenched around nothing, craving only to be filled with him as he repeated the action, slicking himself up in your juices and the remnants of your orgasm. You mewled against him, fingers digging into his tensed biceps as he watched you with unadulterated awe.

“Tell me how badly…” He purred, biting down on his lip as he slid through you once again.

“ _Ahh_ … s- so f- _fucking_ badly, Minho. I… need it, p- please, I’ll d- do anything… Just fill me up…”

A victorious smirk crossed his lips, the angle of his next glide changing just enough for the head of his cock to poke to your entrance, teasing you into submission, as if you weren’t already there.

“You’ll never know how beautiful you are when you beg for my cock, angel.”

And in granting with your wishes, Minho finally relented.

A gentle motion of his hips eased his head inside you, and the stretch that came with it was nothing short of heavenly. Your lips parted in silent wanting, your eyes locked with his as the veins in his neck began to protrude just enough, the tightness you were wrapping him in proving to be more delicious than all the other times he’d fucked you. It was so easy for him to enter you, so beautifully smooth an action thanks to your earlier orgasm, and it was purely salacious.

He took his time as best he could, forcing you to feel every inch of his girth as he guided himself in, a rasped grunt emitting from him when he eventually sunk his length to the hilt.

Stilling for just a moment, he allowed you a brief second of fullness, a moment to adjust before retracting his cock to the head once again.

The careful drag of his member against your tender, post-coital walls was everything. It was pleasure personified, and you felt the need to cum around him intensify with every thrust of his hips.

“Oh my _god_ …” He whined, burying his face into your neck.

He took hold of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours and holding them tightly at either side of your head as he moved inside you, his broad back rippling at his gestures. Even now, even with his loss of inhibition, he was careful never to put too much pressure on you, or more specifically, your stomach. As if it would somehow hurt the unborn miracle you carried, though you knew it wouldn’t.

You hooked your legs around his hips, digging your heels into his behind as you pulled him in ever deeper, desperate for him to claim you in every way. His abs grazed against your navel with your efforts, his pecs against your breasts, the two of you moving in delicious synchrony as you met his thrusts halfway.

“I c- can’t… baby you’re too tight…” He rasped, his burning warmth radiating through you.

“You can’t stop… Don’t…” You pleaded, nowhere near done with him yet.

“ _Fuck_. Then I’ll do this at my pace.”

He suddenly sat back on his knees, pulling out of you and taking firm hold of your waist, careful to avoid any areas of tenderness. The brief loss of contact and emptiness made you whine, but you were quickly yelping in surprise as he flipped you to your front.

Hands holding you at the curve of your waist, you were pulled to all fours as Minho set his own speed. His own rhythm.

“You want to be fucked?” He growled, aligning himself with you. “How’s this for fucked-”

You cried out in sinful desperation as he all but slammed into you, throwing your head back and allowing your hair to splay out over your naked, clammy back.

Minho was relentless. His actions feral, the smacking of skin on skin more prominent than ever as he drove into you from behind, forcing you up the bed. Choked moans and cries of pleasure filled the room, his rigid cock hitting you at your deepest parts with every single snap of his hips.

The strength in your arms evaporated, your face meeting the pillow beneath you as you succumbed to his advances. Your back arched and your greedy pussy well presented for him, he pounded you with newfound vigour, spurred on by your muffled vocalisations and drawn out whines of lust.

You felt yourself tightening around him, unable to control the second encroaching orgasm he was taking you to with every drag of his cock.

“That’s it baby-” he hissed, squeezing your supple cheek. “Don’t hold back… Let me feel you.”

“ _Fuck_ , M- Minho… P- please, ahh, _please_ …”

You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for. Your head was too fuzzy, your body too highly strung, any rational thoughts discarded from your mind with his force, replaced with only the need to release and the pleasure he gave you.

Risking a look over your shoulder, you were rewarded with the most tantalising of sights as your gaze rested on your husband, tensed out and dripping with beads of sweat, teeth sunk into his bottom lip so hard you feared he’d draw blood as he grunted and rutted like a wild animal. He was venting any trace of frustration through servicing you like this, chasing his own relief in more ways than one, his painfully apparent yearning manifesting in the way he threw his head back and groaned into the air, the most erotic thing you’d ever heard from him.

And just like that, that voracious sound was enough to push you over the edge. You trembled around him, your knees and thighs quivering helplessly as your pussy contracted with the orgasm, once again giving you that euphoria that knocked you for six and destroyed every one of your senses.

Minho followed close behind, unable to front any facade of control as he released inside you, hot and brutally fast. He filled you to the brim, yet you were too exhausted to really appreciate the feeling of being flooded as he milked himself for any last drops.

Your legs gave out as he gradually pulled from you, allowing you the chance to collapse. The warm oozing of his release down your thighs reminded you that there was still clean up to do, but in this moment, you couldn’t have cared less. Post-coital bliss demanded that you relish in it, and that was exactly what you intended to do.

Gentle hands swept your hair off your back, being replaced with the affectionate ghosting of fingertips across the skin as Minho reclined at your side. You turned to face him, still too fucked out to really say anything of note, so you simply smiled at him.

He smiled back, tracing circles on your body, offering you a semblance of soothing love as you rode out the high you’d been given.

“I love you, angel,” he purred, his voice still rough and heavy. “Both of you.”

You could do nothing more exerting than simply hum in response, dragging yourself across the sheets as you nuzzled into his chest.

That same sense of comfort he’d offered you for so long was still present. The same sense of security, the same adoration and sense of belonging, despite all the misdemeanours and wrongdoings.

Because by all accounts, you were the same old person. And so, you believed, was he.

Your lips pursed in the same way they’d always done. His smirk was just as wicked as you’d known. Your hair was the same colour it’d always been, his eyes held that same mystifying glint they always had. And your general outlook on life, regardless of everything, remained naively optimistic, just like always. A stark contrast to his pessimistic nature, but that, was how he had always been.

You took comfort in knowing that the sameness you were used to hadn’t been lost. Yet you wondered if it would remain, and thought that perhaps, if it didn’t, that might not be so bad. With the impending arrival of your child together, things were bound to change, and the prospect excited you.

This child could be a long sought after purpose for Minho, and an anchor for you. A product of love and goodness, from a relationship that seemed so dark at times.

You reached out to touch him, your hand pressing against his warm caramel skin, the resounding drum of his heartbeat reminding you, that as ethereal as he seemed sometimes, he was entirely real. A real person, with real flaws and fears, that you’d recommit to working through with him.

Being Minho’s wife had been the single biggest challenge of your life, and not one that you’d tackled particularly well. You’d both made mistakes. Ones that you thought you might never come back from.

But having someone in your life that was prepared to do the things he did for you… all from a place of selfless protection. You felt like that was all too rare, and you knew this child would be just as loved, just as protected, if not moreso than you had been.

You weren’t ignorant to the ‘what ifs’ and the possibilities of what could have gone wrong with everything. Yet they seemed to pale in comparison to the end outcome, now that it all appeared to be over.

So now, the palpable pain and hurt, the lingering regrets and things you’d done for whatever reasons you’d justified at the time, seemed almost insignificant to you.

Because you knew, the reason behind all of it, remained much the same as it always had.

The one thing that drove people to insanity, that tore them apart just as easily as it sewed them together.

Love. Painful, irrevocable love.

It was an uncontested constant. One that you would hold on to, for as long as you could, and for as long as your heart would allow it to stay.

Because your love for him and this child, and his for the two of you, was hopelessly unmatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this, if you did. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. ~Mica  
> Feedback via: [Tumblr](https://jl-micasea.tumblr.com/) or on AO3  
> Support via: [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/jlmicasea)


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